


Crossfire

by hobbeshalftail3469



Series: Robin and Cormoran - their story as I'd like to see it! [1]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Christmas Party, Developing Relationship, F/M, Kissing, Party, Sexual Tension, Smut, Yearning, face punch, green dress, male against female bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-22 18:49:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 27,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14314920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: The concept is post marriage to Matthew, with Robin back working with Strike.As Christmas approaches Strike attends a party with Nick and Ilsa - a sort of blind date - which is complicated by the attendance of Robin and Matthew.





	1. "You gotta get out there, mate."

**Author's Note:**

> My first fan fic attempt - please give me feedback; honest and brutal is fine - I won't break!  
> This is going to be a long, added to piece, with smut and snogging - eventually !

Strike sighed audibly into his phone, his free hand cradling the back of his skull whilst his fingers attempted to zest his scalp. The conversation with Nick had reached that point where neither had anything further to say, but nor was either of them willing to admit defeat and hang up.  
"Tell him we're picking him up at 8" Ilsa's voice was clearly audible in the background, "and he's coming....no arguments!"  
"You got that?" Nick added, Strike could sense the wry smile from his friend over the phone. "Oggy mate, you've gotta get back out there."  
Strike sat back in his rickety desk chair, glancing through to the outer office. Robin was there, sitting at her own desk; tapping away on her computer and making random notes onto a sprial bound reporter's pad. His eyes were drawn to her left hand - for some reason the demure gold band nestled there caused him more distraction than the flashy sapphire and diamond engagement ring had ever done - and he found himself nodding into the phone.  
"Yeah......8, alright," he found himself mumbling; almost able to see the thumbs up Nick flashed his wife on the other end of the line, "I'm getting pissed though!"  
"Never doubted it mate....it's Ilsa's work crowd; I'll join ya!" Nick winced slightly after the words tumbled out - shit, had he just agreed to drink at the same rate as Cormoran Strike for the evening? He made a mental note to leave the Resolve handy!

 

Robin was deep in concentration trying to make sense of a set of driving directions snapped off a Sat Nav whilst hastily following a client the previous day. Cross referencing the route with coffee shops along it may help to define an observation point which she'd return to after the Christmas break. As usual, she worked swiftly and with focus although she had overheard part of Strike's conversation on the phone. She'd been able to deduce it was with Nick by the ridiculous banter and almost obscene laughter she'd heard from her partner; but towards the end of the call his body language and the tone had changed; she hoped nothing serious had occurred - she liked Nick and his wife.

Strike lumbered from his own small office into the shared space, "Tea" almost a defeated tone to his voice and hunched stature.  
"What's up?" Robin asked him with a neutral tone but her eyes swept across his face like a poker player searching for a tell.  
Strike flicked on the kettle and picked up a second cup, asked Robin if she needed tannin wordlessly using the universal language of 'proferred mug and raised eyebrow' and on receiving a nod added tea bags to each and began to tap the rounded part of the spoon into his palm.  
"'ave we got biscuits?" he asked sulkily.  
"Oh god; that bad?" smirked Robin. His general childish demeanour made her guess that the phone call hadn't been too serious, but had resulted in Nick and Ilsa talking him into something he wasn't overly enthusiastic about.  
Robin reached into her drawer....the emergency drawer where she kept chocolate digestives (she only ever bought them when they were on offer) and handed an opened pack to Strike.  
His eyebrows raised quizzically; he knew she'd bought the pack yesterday but usually they only delved into the 'emergency drawer' together - it was almost like drinking alone to have opened a pack without the other. Even when Strike was working late, or desperate for a midnight snack he didn't succumb to the sanctity of the drawer.  
"Don't judge me, " Robin raised her eyes but didn't twitch her lips into a smirk. "Matthew dropped the bombshell yesterday that the Shagwell cow is going to be at their Christmas do.....he's set her up with one of the chinless wonder boys he seems to think of as friends at work. "  
Strike poured boiling water into their mugs and removed the bag from Robin's after a quick dunk and stir, adding it to his own mug in order to reach his required shade of creosote. Halfway through his second biscuit he passed back the pack grinning as Robin removed 2 biscuits; placed them back to back in order to achieve a sort of chocolate digestive sandwich and bit down savagely.  
"You did well to leave me some," Strike sniggered, knowing the history and contempt between the two women. He kept his own thoughts about Matthew and the woman he had shagged whilst still being in a relationship with Robin under control; although whenever he saw Matthew's face he really did struggle not to punch the living shit out of it.  
Robin continued her snack with less vigour as those familiar pheromones from chocolate kicked into her bloodstream. She accepted the tea Strike brought across to her en route to the leather effect sofa; his fingers had caught against hers as they had made the transfer and he had experienced that familiar sensation in his stomach that accompanied any touch from her. Fortunately the sofa made its usual farty welcome to his bulk which acted like a bucket of cold water to his body's reaction.  
"So, come on......what did Nick want?" Robin rolled her tongue around inside her mouth, trying to remove stray bits of digestive but holding his gaze in her 'don't bother deflecting, I'm going to find out, so you might as well tell me' look.  
Sighing; taking a large gulp from his tea and rearranging his face with his flat palm all at the same time; he gazed up at the ceiling, head back on the sofa.  
"Ilsa's set me up on a fuckin' blind date....and no smart arse comments from you..." Strike's head flipped up and he pointed directly at Robin who was clutching her mug with both hands and trying to use it to hide her mouth which was torn between twitching in humour at his almost petulant manner and pouting in a sudden and almost inexplicable fit of jealousy for the date.  
"Who is she then?" Robin asked, trying to keep her voice light and casual.  
"Oh.... someone who's a friend of someone she works with....I don' know" Strike replied absently. "Anyway, it's a pain in the arse 'cos now I need to get dressed up and be polite to people this evening when what I really wanted to do was finish that paperwork for the Denis case and get pissed on your Christmas pressie to me!" he smiled broadly as Robin's face looked crestfallen and bemused at the same time.  
"But.....how?.....you've not even opened it.....and unlike you, I can actually wrap a present up!" she quipped at him.  
"Robin, you could hardly lift it and I could hear clanking bottles when you put it on my desk," he laughingly explained, "Jesus, that's pretty basic detective-ing Robin!"  
"Oh, bugger off," she retorted, "I hope your blind date is short, clingy and a Chelsea fan!" wrinkling her nose as she launched a pad of sticky paper notes across the room at his head.


	2. Green scarf.....green dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin's green scarf reminds Strike of a different green garment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Following on - nothing much has happened I know.....I'm building it up (at least I hope I am and not just boring you all!)

The rest of the afternoon passed quite quickly - as usual the small interaction they had shared had boosted their moods. Although neither was looking forward to their evening, somehow the knowledge that the other would be sharing a similar fate; and that they would be able to console each other through texts and a catch up after the Christmas break lifted their spirits.  
For the first time since he had started the business they had decided that they could actually shut down for a few days over Christmas. Friday, today, they would finish early; Robin had a waxing appointment - Strike had seen it written on her To Do list and he had spent at least an hour after convincing himself it was just a lower leg wax, nothing higher, no other soft, smooth, lickably hairfree body parts of Robin.....he'd done his usual flick through a few of the more revolting crime scene photos on his phone in order to balance his equilibrium. They would be back at work on Wednesday. Robin had said she was going up to Masham, Strike was intending to catch up with his sister Lucy (one day only though) and had arranged to have a drink with Shanker; other than that he had made no plans.

At ten to four Robin appeared at the door to his office. She ran her hand through her golden sheet of hair and smiled warmly as Strike looked up and met her eyes. Looking into Cormoran's eyes always made her feel light headed, even across a shabby, smoke filled office.   
" Are y'off?" he asked rhetorically, she was wearing her beige woollen coat and carrying her large leather bag. The deep green scarf wrapped around her throat made her eyes look more grey and dark than usual. The sight of her wearing anything green automatically made Strike inhale as his thoughts became peppered with clear mental images of her wearing that green dress in Vashti along with less clear, but nevertheless vivid images he had since conjured up for himself. One of her lying on the leather office sofa, another of her approaching him with two flutes of champagne and a look of pure seduction in her grey eyes and her red lips parted another recent addition was of her leaning backwards across his office desk as he worked.....in his fantasy she pulled him towards her using his tie and kissed him wantonly. Good job he never wore a tie to the office he had thought!

Robin's voice brought him back from where he had floated to, " Yeah, female maintenance for this evening required."  
"Oh well, you'd better get started....can't have the Shagwell showing you up!" he retorted, his eyes crinkling at the sides in the way that made her want to trace them with her tongue. She'd forgive him that comment.....for now.

"Seriously Robin, tonight'll be fine, you'll have a couple of white wines and find that you love everyone!" he grinned at her. He eased himself out of his chair and came over to her at the door. His broad arm reached across her, grazing her coat and she was suddenly aware of his sheer size and the bulk of his masculinity. For a fleeting moment she thought he was about to embrace her.....she'd be OK with that; but was secretly wishing that she hadn't been wearing her coat; if Cormoran was going to put his arms around her she wanted to feel his warmth and manliness close to her skin, not through a cardigan, scarf and coat. Anyway, his hand had not reached for her, but his huge overcoat on the stand.   
"Happy Christmas Robin," he almost whispered, his eyes locked onto hers, trying to read what was going on behind them without falling into them. He was holding out a smallish but unmistakably pale blue gift bag. "Go on, get out of here, I'll see you Wednesday," he rumbled, his usual throaty voice recovered, "I've got male maintenance to deal with myself.....this doesn't just happen you know!" he smirked, indicating up and down his massive form with a disparaging flick of his wrist.

Robin's amazement at her own thoughts and the Tiffany's gift bag were subsumed in hilarity at Cormoran's cheeky mannerisms. She left and walked down the metal stairs feeling, not for the first time, that she was glad she'd turned down better paid jobs....even though the bastard had managed to guess what her carefully thought out Christmas gift was! Still; what he didn't know was that there was an extra part to the gift hidden inside; and it made her grin to picture the look on his face when he saw it.

Leaving the grubby outer door she strode purposefully down Denmark Street to the tube station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter they go to their parties (or should that be singular?!)


	3. Smoothly does it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Party time....  
> I've also changed the rating now as I was feeling restricted (and we don't want that!)

Robin left the tube at Ealing Broadway and turned left, the salon she had arranged her appointment at was a few buildings down the main Broadway. She'd received a voucher for her birthday which she'd never got round to using; the concept of a full bikini and leg wax might not seem like much of a birthday treat; but maybe she'd be able to resurrect her libido by feeling a little more feminine.  
Sex with Matthew had always been OK, obviously the first throes of passion in their youth had resulted in some pretty memorable nights, and in the heady weeks after their engagement things had definitely been improving. However things hadn't been particularly thrilling for Robin and she'd resorted to her own hands and imagination in recent months for satisfaction. However, she'd married Matthew and she had to at least try to make things work.

Robin resisted the urge to open her gift from Strike, but in truth she was desperate to peek inside the box wrapped in white ribbon which she could see inside the gift bag. Presumably this professional wrapping was the work of the shop rather than his clumsy fingers. She was stunned though - nothing from that famous store was cheap - and Strike was notoriously crap at gift giving, despite the fact that his only other previous gift to her had been a stunning dress, so maybe he was just crap at gift giving to anyone except Robin ?

"You can come through now Robin," called the slim, black tunic'd beautician. She was instructed to remove her lower clothes and put on the paper knickers provided.  
"How little are we leaving behind?" asked 'Shannon', according to her badge.  
Robin screwed up her face - when she'd told Matthew about her appointment he'd suggested she whip the lot off - this had made him instantly horny and had resulted in very quick and unsatisfactory, for her, sex. Robin thought there was something a little odd about a man wanting her nether regions to ressemble a pre pubescent child, so she opted for a thong style which would compliment her new underwear.

Forty minutes later Robin felt considerably cooler, and yes, definitely sexier and more feminine. She had a couple of hours before Matthew had said the taxi was collecting them, plenty of time for her to bathe, fix her hair and make up and possibly have a drink.....they were being fed at the event, so at least she'd have no dishes to wash up!

___________  
The taxi arrived promptly at seven fifteen, she'd come out of the bedroom at exactly 7:10 because she knew that Matthew would not approve of her choice of outfit; but he'd told her it was 'swanky' and to 'glam up a bit' so the beautiful poison green Cavalli dress had seemed like the obvious choice - it was by far the nicest thing she owned, and other then twirl around a bit in it in the store and infront of her bedroom mirror a few times she'd never worn it.  
Matthew had reacted exactly as she'd envisaged, but given that there was no time for his wife to change; plus he had to admit that she looked stunning and would be able to parade her to his work colleagues he simply muttered about smiling and having a good time, and not acting too Northern....whatever the hell that meant.  
__________  
The ride to Tobacco Dock felt endless, Matthew was explaining the names and roles of the various people and their partners who would be sharing their company tables this evening. She switched off when he started talking about Josh and how he was a great catch for Sarah. Robin 's mind wandered instead to her partner, Cormoran and his blind date this evening. It was slightly odd for Ilsa to have set him up and for Nick to have gone along with it, but she pictured him in his dark Italian suit and crisp shirt charming the pants off...........ooooh, no, weird sensation.....Robin didn't want to think of him charming anyone out of their pants tonight!  
The taxi ground to a halt and Robin exited the vehicle as elegantly as she could, christ the dress was tight, but she was glad she was wearing it when she glanced at the other women. Matthew noticed a few appreciative glances towards Robin and steered her towards the entrance with his hand on her back - funny, when Cormoran had the need to guide her in a similar manner his hand felt firm and reassuring, and yet not in the least bit possessive whereas Matthew's hand was forceful but he was unattentive towards her, his attention seemed focussed on finding familiar faces in the crowd.....and within minutes he'd spotted one.  
"What the fuck?" Matthew grabbed Robin's arm and turned her roughly towards him. "Are you fucking kidding me; why is he here?" Matthew pointed aggressively towards a group standing near to a large arched window swathed with deep, red curtains.  
Robin followed the direction of his outstretched arm and took a sharp intake of breath as she spotted the unmistakable height, width and dark curls of Strike.

It took a moment for her to compose herself at all and she rewound the conversation from earlier in the day....had he at any point mentioned where he was going this evening? No....not to her recollection. Had she mentioned to him any details of Matthew's work party.......evidently not. Unless he knew she was going to be here all along and had amused himself all day by never letting on.....but no, he'd surely have made up some excuse if only to avoid Matthew (she'd given up on the faint hope she'd once had that they would learn to like each other, but they'd managed to basically avoid each other's company which was as good a solution as it got).  
"I.....I had no idea Matthew, honestly!" Robin managed to reply as Matthew's fingers tightened around her upper arm.  
"Yeah.....riiighht, like I believe that," he spat out; then plastered a fake grin across his face as a couple of slim, clean shaven men approached them, shaking Matthew's hand and almost leering at Robin. She felt her toes curl in her high, gold sandals but tried to smile back in as warm a way as she could muster. Each one held her hand for just a little bit too long as they were introduced as Josh and Daniel ("call me Daaaann!" oh God)....and their palms were clammy. As they continued in a series of back slapping 'man hugs' Robin took the opportunity to seek out Strike once more. His group was moving from their vantage point into the main dining room. Robin could make out Ilsa, looking beautiful in a black, plunge-necked jumpsuit and Nick alongside her in a black dinner suit. There were several other men and women in the group, Robin tried to assess which could be Strike's date....2 of the women were fairly tall (a pre-requisite for a set up with Cormoran) one was in a flame orange coloured long sheath type dress with virtually no back the other taller woman was wearing a black, cocktail length dress and as Robin watched was joined by a beautiful, dark skinned woman who was about five foot tall in her heels; the 2 were clearly besotted with each other. So, orange frock woman it was....Robin felt slightly annoyed about that.....she was very, very attractive. Dark haired, long, elegant bone structure....your basic nightmare.  
What the hell was she thinking.....this whole thing was a bloody nightmare.  
Maybe they'd be able to avoid each other; this place was massive, there were at least eighty tables in the dining area, hopefully they's be seated at opposite ends.

She brought her attention back to Matthew's work colleagues. The group had increased and now included Sarah Shadlock ( Robin was cattily pleased to see that she looked quite frumpy in a silver long sleeved dress) and several other couples - Mark and Tabitha, Kyle and Pixie (seriously, that's not a name of a grown woman!) and Dale and Claire; who actually seemed alright and gave Robin a sort of 'please befriend me' glance and shoulder shrug.  
The pack leader seemed to be the hideous Daaaannnnn (if he suggested being called Dan the Man at some point during the evening she may have to stab him) who rather loudly and showing the type of class that is usually reserved for poor quality TV dramas proceeded to parade them through the crowd whilst whooping and pretending to swirl a lasso rope around his head. Claire earned Robin's unspoken respect by baring her teeth, exhaling and muttering "kill me now" as they followed en masse into the dining room section of the venue.


	4. Of all the parties, in all the world......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mainly the angst and across the room build up of more things to follow. Strike and Robin realise that they are at the same party and we find out a little about Strike's date.

Strike had been feeling rather smug. Ilsa had apparently come through on his date - tall, incredibly attractive and seemed quite sane - all of which were ticks in the boxes as far as he was concerned. The champagne in the foyer had been quickly downed and replaced thoughtfully by Nick with a pint of John Smith's.  
"Cheers, mate", they'd clinked glasses and sniggered like school boys as Nick made suggestive eyebrow raises towards the orange clad female, "pack it in, she seems very nice, stop dickin' about" and the pair downed sizeable amounts from their pints.  
Still sniggering, but trying to appear respectable as orange frock was now back in the group and wandering her eyes up and down the sizeable chunk of a man that Strike was.  
Nick tilted his body as if to survey the room in general but leaned into his friend's ear, "Tiny tits Oggy.....bet it'll look like two aspirins on an ironing board!" Most of Strike's resulting guffaw, and beer remained in the glass  
"Yeah, well, a couple of aspirins can be great for pain relief," Strike clapped his old friend on his back and wandered over to his date; having received a sharp 'will you two stop acting like children' glare from Ilsa.

They moved into the dining area once the whole of their group was present - a loud group of black suited idiots had entered and was spoiling what had been a rather pleasant atmosphere. Strike moved to the side of the table closest to the wall (investigator routine he thought) and pulled a chair out for aspirin tits (she was called Samara, but Strike had got into the routine of giving clients nicknames and the habit was infiltrating the rest of his life). He unfastened his jacket button and sat in the chair next to her instantly realising that she had sat on his dodgy leg side - she'll be knackered if she tries playing footsie he thought; and instantly wished Robin was there to share all of this with. For a brief moment he considered texting her, but resisted.....Samara seemed nice, Robin was out with her husband (her fucking husband, don't screw your whole life, or at least tonight's sex life, up for a married woman.....who you work with......and who has never really made any kind of move towards you at all.....) and who is FUCKING HELL, sitting at the next shitting table.

The commotion being caused by their group faded in his ears as his eyes devoured her. Oh my god she looked absolutely stunning, and she was there.  
"Oh fuck, it's Robin....she's here," Strike hissed at Ilsa who was across the circular table from him.  
"Is she?" Ilsa replied with badly faked, wide-eyed horror, " Wow.....fancy that?" Ilsa nonchalently picked up one of the bottles of Champagne on the table and popped the cork; her impish gaze never leaving Strike's face - although his gaze was diverted by the goddess in the green dress who had not yet noticed him.  
_________  
Robin noticed him, as soon as lasso boy reached their table she glanced around for anything of note (investigator routine she thought) and realised that far from being able to avoid him; sitting there in his dark blue suit, crisp white shirt and neatly knotted tie he was going to be imprinted on her view all evening.......hmmmmmm, there were worse views!  
"I wanna sit with RRRRRobin," announced Dickhead Dan who lunged at the chair next to where Robin stood. Matthew, seemed thrilled at this, he sat opposite her - his back to Strike - she had a feeling he had not noticed the seating proximity having downed a couple of shots of vodka and 2 bottled beers as they were mingling in the foyer area.  
"Aren't I the lucky one," Robin dropped her small clutch bag on the table, wriggled into her chair and grabbed at Claire's hand to drag her into the vacant seat on her other side before one of the other tossers could. "Claire, will you please join me in getting rip-roaringly pissed?" and she filled their sizeable glasses with white wine from a bottle on their table; leaned over and grabbed another bottle from Matthew's side of the table. Claire grabbed her glass, spilling a little as it sloshed over the rim, "I shall be honoured Rrrrrrobin," she sniggered in an immitation of Dickhead Dan. " This is going to be a nightmare isn't it?" she stated after taking a large swig.  
"Oh, you have no cocking idea!" replied Robin,followed by a very Yorkshire accented "Bugger!" as Strike finally looked in her direction and she saw his mouth form the unmistakable words, "Oh Fuck!"

_________  
She's definitely seen me thought Strike, she's just said "Bugger".....those delicious red lips had said that familiar outburst; one which had become part of his own regular language now, thanks to her.  
She'd said bugger, and he'd said fuck.....wonder what a psychologist would make of that thought Strike as his eyes bored into the back of Matthew's head, but only briefly as the rose-gold hair and plunging neckline of his wife captured his attention - Matthew could have turned around and stared directly at him, there was no way he could wrench his dark eyes away from her. He'd thought his fantasies of her in that dress were vivid.....but with hindsight they were shite compared to the real thing.  
He must have stared at her for minutes before his mind registered something......she had been staring back at him, their eyes were locked on each other, like missiles, engaged and ready to....  
"Strike, Strike, Oggy mate.....you want anything?" Nick was holding up his empty glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....did you see what I did with that rid-ic-u-lous play on words right at the end!


	5. Don't burst my bubble......or balloon!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Strike have ended up at the same Christmas party.  
> During the meal there are party games......deep joy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know I am stretching out the tension.....but that's one of the best bits IMHO!

Strike's gaze was broken first as his starter was placed in front of him and he characteristically turned to make eye contact with the server to say a sincere "Thank you."  
He noticed that there were several different starters being served, "Have I chosen this and forgotten?" he asked Ilsa as he realised that the carpaccio of beef was exactly what he would have chosen from the three options (Robin would have the cheese soufflé he automatically thought), his date had a plate of greenery with what looked like roasted beetroot strewn across it; his nose and mouth wrinkled in distaste.  
"I chose for you Corm; you've got venison steak next and a chocolate thing for pud. OK?" Ilsa smiled, her eyes sparkling and although he was grateful that her food choices seemed spot on he couldn't help think that she had some mischievous plan; other than to get him to a party that she so obviously knew Robin would be attending.

"Are you really going to eat that?" Samara asked indicating the plate of raw thinly sliced beef, oozing blood and scattered with chestnut mushrooms and shavings of parmesan.  
"Absolutely!" Strike raised a dripping forkful to his mouth and made the impossible to describe but universally accepted noise and face which signify 'something delicious is in my mouth'. Having swallowed he gave her one of his charming, crinkled grins and loaded his fork again, "Would you care to join me?" he asked as he turned the fork in her direction. Her reaction was instant and not at all what he expected - she visibly gagged and pushed his hand and the repellant fork away.  
"I'm vegan," she stated, before busying herself with her salad.  
"Ah...yeah, erm, well obviously not then......enjoy your, er....foliage," he stammered. Glancing up across the table Ilsa was trying to hide her mirth behind her own forkful of souffle....Cormoran rolled his eyes at her, subtly shaking his head but attacking his food with his usual gusto and enjoyment.

Robin had watched the interaction between Strike and his date until her own starter had arrived, cheese souffle. She and Claire tucked in whilst the men (and at this point she was using the term lightly) at the table seemed more interested in seeing who could order the most expensive drink and throw it down their throats without tasting it. Sarah was basically throwing herself at her date; nauseating, but not out of character.  
At this rate, with no food inside him, Matthew would be pissed and out cold before the end of the night........might not be such a bad thing she thought as her gaze was pulled back to Strike who was shaking his head and gesticulating in Nick's direction, laughing as he held up what was left of his pint.....oh please god don't tell me Nick is trying to keep pace drinking with Cormoran all night she thought....poor Nick!..........poor Ilsa!!!!!!!!!

Part way through the meal, after the mains had been delivered an announcement was made over the speaker system about table games. The reaction of Claire, Robin and Strike was identical as they slumped, huffed and scowled their top lips; at least Robin and Claire could do this together Strike noticed, whereas everyone else on his table seemed very enthusiastic and were already picking up the balloons and various elastic bands which had been placed on their tables. 

"Did he say we have to make something that sums up the table?" Claire asked whilst refilling their glasses for the second time.  
"Yup, " Robin hiccupped, realising that this would be her third very large glass of white wine.  
"Got it!" Claire drunkenly errupted, clicking her fingers and pointing to the ceiling, "so perfect," and she began rummaging for 3 specific balloons.

Twenty minutes later, Ilsa and Nick's table had somehow constructed the scales of justice and a gavel from their selection of materials and were happily placing their offering on the stage for judging.  
Robin and Claire's effort - because basically the rest of the table were either asleep in their meals or had buggered off to drink or start on the pretend roulette wheel - could not be taken to the stage....after making comments about the positive and negative aspects those models on stage the compere came down to their table encouraged by Claire's vociferous yelling of "He can't move....his legs won't work!" whilst gesticulating at a slumped and drooling Dan who was sat with three balloons carefully blown up and attached to his head with an elastic band under his chin.  
Several of the tables around were laughing and pointing, most of Strike's table included; Strike himself was trying to stifle huge belly laughs as Robin and Claire acted like a couple of the Dolly Dealers off 70s TV - using their arms to 'show off' their handiwork and posing in what would be an incredibly provactive manner if it wasn't for their sucked in cheek, cross eyed fish faces. God Robin was a laugh!

Claire grabbed the hand held microphone from the compere, "Let me 'splain it....OK....so......it is summing up the table, OK. Well, there's only Dan left you see," slurred Claire," and Dan is a massive Dickhead - hence....." and at this point she carefully indicated the balloons in the shape of a cock and balls attached to his head. Robin and Claire high fived at this point. Claire continued on the microphone, louder as the laughter around the room was increasing - the compere having started to film the proceedings which were flashed up onto a huge screen.  
"However, we wanted to make it more realistic, so......Robin, would you do the honours pl'se." Claire turned to Robin who had picked up a cocktail stick and with considerable enjoyment rammed it into the central balloon, resulting in a loud bang, and Claire bent to pick up the shrivelled end of the burst balloon, "Exactly like him!" she bowed to raucous applause and cheering from the rest of the room.

They were handed a magnum of champage as a prize......oh dear thought Cormoran!


	6. I need a cigarette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party is continuing....Robin and Strike have some time alone and Samara puts another nail in her coffin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of thinking that at this point in the evening both Robin and Strike really just want to share their tales of the night so far with each other....

Strike needed a cigarette and went in search of the poorly furnished hell hole that had been set aside for those who shared his nicotine addiction. In the corner of the foyer area there was a glass door leading to a smallish outside space - it had a plastic canopy and a few terracotta pots filled with sand to act as ashtrays. Strike nodded in greeting to the other hunched figures standing around furiously trying to consume their tobacco fix before returning to the warmth of inside. Strike however enjoyed the freshness of the air; ironic he smirked to himself and lit up, inhaling a deep drag on his cigarette and exhaling through his nose. A second deep drag and he felt his desperate need to smoke subdued.  
His mind wandered back to Robin, naturally, it did so most of the time anyway so it was hardly surprising that she would be the focus of his thoughts this evening. He'd had to avert his gaze from her on several occasions already before his bodily reactions became too obvious. His thoughts flicked back to one point in the meal when she'd leaned over to lick a taste of the sauce off Claire's plate from her proferred finger. Robin's eyes had closed as her soft, red lips had captured the feminine digit, sucked on it deliciously and released it, evidently pleased with the taste. Strike's reaction had been two fold - firstly he'd emitted a groan so guttural that half the table had looked up from their conversations and eating (he'd had to hastily cover by explaining how perfectly the venison steak was cooked) and secondly his cock had pushed so hard against his fly he'd thought it might explode.  
The memory was having a similar effect as he smoked and he shifted his stance - partly to cover it and partly to ease the weight on his prosthesis.  
After grinding out the stub with the heel of his shoe he made his way through the foyer, via the bar where he collected a whisky and drank it whilst crossing the fairly empty space; although he did register that Matthew was at the roulette table with both Josh and Sarah, and it was pretty clear that he was at that stage of inebriation where he was close to sleep, but could veer into either aggression or amorousness, Strike's guess was that it would be the former option based on his gut feelings about Matthew.

He rejoined the table as desserts were being delivered. Samara's nose had wrinkled as she caught the unmistakable whiff of cigarette smoke.  
"Yep, I smoke and eat bloodied carcasses.....I'm guessing a snog is therefore off the table!" Strike blurted out. He'd had enough with pretending to show interest in his date. She'd been boring him to be blunt - it was easy to see why she was single. Her conversation had revolved around veganism and the joy of vegetables for most of the evening, the rest of her conversation had been along the lines of why her previous partners had all left her after less than a year because they all had fundamental personality issues....throughout the whole conversation he'd shot daggers across at Ilsa who had been grinning shamelessly.

"Ok, I'm getting off now, " Samara announced, " Flight is at 1am, Cormoran, it has been a pleasure to meet you, Nick, Ilsa, Fran, Lola see you all soon." And with that she wafted out with Nick and Strike both trying to make eye contact with Ilsa who was doing a a remarkable job of not meeting their gaze.  
"What you said to her Oggy?" Nick asked. Strike responded with a generic shoulder shrug and slight shake of the head. He really wasn't arsed.  
Ilsa finally giggled and confessed that they'd basically had 2 spare places at the table after one couple dropped out a couple of weeks ago, she'd come down to the venue to see if the table could be reconfigured and had spotted the list of company names and seating arrangements. Ilsa recognised Matthew's company name and realised the opportunity. She'd asked Samara as she knew that "Corm would have fucked off within five minutes if he had no incentive to stay, but I needed someone that you'd have no real interest in 'cos I don't want things to get complicated."  
"Really?...not complicated at all!" laughed Strike with a shake of his head, dragging his hand through his hair and down his face as Matthew reappeared at the table accompanied by Shagwell but without Josh; he followed after a few minutes, fiddling with his trouser fly then immediately scooping up a chocolate covered strawberry garnish and popping it into Sarah's mouth who shrieked an over enthusiastic giggle.   
Both Claire and Robin grimaced - firstly at the sight, then at each other - and with a head jerk towards the foyer got up with their bags. Robin looked over to where Strike was sitting; his hooded eyes were waiting for hers and he hungrily watched the curve of her arse as she shimmied through the tables behind Claire - she was walking more calmly than he would have considered possible given the Champagne prize, but as he glanced across he could see that only a small amount had been poured out of the bottle.   
As they reached the ruched drapes which acted as a barrier between the two spaces she turned her head back; the waterfall of strawberry blonde hair catching the light creating a halo effect around her. Her eyes almost begged Strike to follow and he felt his mobile phone buzz in his pocket.  
He opened the message Robin had sent and his heart quickened :  
NEED YOU URGENTLY. IN FOYER. Rx

Strike left his dessert virtually untouched and made his way to the foyer, his eyes scanning the various groups and areas for the familiar rose-gold flash of hair, or the poison-green flash of that dress.  
He spotted her at the smoking area door where she was beckoning towards him rapidly with her hand. Smiling and with considerable anticipation swelling in his chest he tried to appear nonchalent as he crossed towards her. Her husband was almost in the same room as them, what the hell was she thinking? But the expectation and frisson excited him; a little too much if truth be told.  
Robin was giggling as he reached the door, holding out her hand towards him she grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and dragged him through the door.  
"See, told you he'd come, " she grinned at Claire who was stood, unlit cigarette in hand. "Where's your lighter then?" Robin asked.  
The desire that had been building and growing deep within Strike collapsed - he knew how that balloon had felt when she'd popped it earlier on - but he produced his matches from his jacket pocket, struck one and lit Claire's cigarette, using the same match to light one of his own.  
"Evening, " he exhaled, "And before you say anything, no, I did not have any idea that your party was the same as my party!"  
"Yeah....I guessed as much," Robin replied, her eyes never left Cormoran and she quite blatently scanned her gaze slowly down him and back up, ending at his eyes with a brief raise of her brows and slightly parted lips.  
Strike swallowed and put his cigarette to his lips, repeating Robin's overtly sexual, trailing look but down her body. He was pleased to see that her breathing appeared to be affected by his actions and he swore she let out a small moan as his gaze lingered at the creamy curve of her breasts, barely encased in the taut green satin. As his eyes reached her hips he blew the smoke from his lungs out in a slow, steady stream; unsure himself how he was managing to act so calmly when every one of his senses was in overdrive. His eyes reached the tips of her painted toes, encased in a few straps of golden leather and he dragged deeply on his cigarette in order to drag his gaze back up to her face where his eyes spent a magical and almost explicit moment focussed on her lips, which were parted, with the bottom one clasped by her teeth.   
"Nice dress, " he uttered, huskily.  
"Not looking too shabby yourself Mr Strike", Robin purred as she pressed her palms into the wall behind her and rested her ass on them, feeling the knuckles, and her wedding ring pressing into her flesh.  
Claire stubbed out her cigarette and coughed dragging both of them back to reality.   
"Sooooo, you two are work colleagues......hmmmmm? " her quizzical glances between the two of them were accompanied by a shake of the head. She somewhat brazenly approached Strike and ran her hand up the lapels of his jacket and down his tie, grabbing the fabric in order to physically pull his gaze away from Robin as she stretched luxuriantly against the wall, enjoying the coolness of the brick on her arms.  
"Are you seriously trying to tell me that you can focus on work when you have this sharing your office?" Claire asked, directing the main part of the sentence towards Robin, but turning her head to Strike at the last minute.  
He finished his cigarette and flicked the still burning stub into a nearby pot.  
Strike's face became open, his mouth pressed into a thin line and his dark eyes showed a flicker of sadness behind them,  
"She's married," was all he said as he turned and slammed the door behind him.


	7. Don't do something you might regret.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their brief encounter with Strike in the smoking area, Robin and Claire talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, the next one will be the Strike bit that happens concurrently.

Claire expertly lit a second cigarette from her stub and blew the smoke high into the air.  
"Is it just me or should I have worn rubber soles.....talk about electricity!" she virtually squealed. "Oh my god, are you two doing it?" she begged.  
"What? God no, no.....not at all....we're just work colleagues....we work together, pretty closely, so that's probably what you are picking up," Robin tried to hastily explain, although even to her ears it sounded like a load of bull.  
Claire stared at Robin, raised her eyebrows and shook her head, laughing.  
"No, really....I'm married! Matthew knows Cormoran, there's nothing going on......we just get on well," Robin stammered. All the while she couldn't quite shake that look he'd given her before he'd slammed back into the main hall.

"It's none of my business, but why are you with Matthew?" Claire asked, bluntly. "I mean, I know you don't know me from Adam, but....he just doesn't seem your type!"  
Robin was somewhat taken aback, "Well, I could say the same about you and Dale!" Robin blurted out.  
"Fair point," Claire accepted, "What you don't know is that Dale took this job for one reason only - we haven't shared this with anyone, so......don't breathe a word, but we're basically saving up, we're setting up a school and orphanage in Uruguay, this job was very much part of the plan - my father owns the company! Nice fat pay packet for Dale since he left Uni, and we're dropping the bombshell in the new year at work....and with my family. They'll go spare and will cut off my trustfund and everything, but we've got our plan....Dale puts up with the dicks he works with for that reason!"

Ridiculous though it sounded, that made perfect sense to Robin. Having given up a job with double the pay in order to work for Strike she understood how it could be. She smiled warmly thinking back to her first case with C.B.Strike and everything that had happened since.

"You can drive your life in any direction you want.....you just have to be prepared for a bit of shit along the way.....the right choice isn't always the easy one, just don't do something you'll regret" Claire added, pressing this cigarette stub out into the sand pot littered with yellowed and unwanted filters.  
Robin felt a tear trickle down her cheek, she'd felt so sure that Matthew was her 'forever' when he'd proposed. The ring on her finger had thrilled her, and she'd been so happy to think of herself as Mrs Cunliffe......but of course that was all B.C. - before Cormoran.

Claire didn't make a move to comfort Robin, something inherently told her that if she showed any kind of compassion at that moment the Robin would have sobbed uncontrollably, and although she was sympathetic she could also tell that Robin wasn't stupid......she knew.....she just hadn't realised it.

"But what if it isn't meant to be?" Robin sniffed.  
"Who? You and Matthew? or You and the hunk?" Claire asked matter of factly.  
"I don't know........both I suppose," Robin whispered, her face looking up at the stars, which were surprisingly bright in the clear sky; it reminded her of the skies in Masham.  
Claire held out an arm to link through Robins as she moved them back to the door and warmth, "That's for you to sort out honey," she suggested, "But if you and Cormoran are not meant to be together then I don't know what is right in the world!"  
Robin rested her head into Claire and mumbled, almost like a teenager, "But what if he doesn't fancy me?"  
Claire's head snapped around incredulously; "Oh for fuck's sake Robin........in that dress even I fancy you!" and they collapsed in comradely laughter, Claire's hands squidging at Robin's breasts outrageously and Robin playing along by giving her best 'va va voom' vogue pose!

The door closed behind them from the coldness, and Robin knew that it was time to close another door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be what Strike is doing whilst they are having their chat.


	8. "Walk away Cormoran"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After leaving Robin and Claire, Strike returns to the main party; he's emotionally and physically affected by what has just happened.  
> Having seen him at the start of the evening, Matthew remembers that Strike is there with them and tempers flare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what is happening in the main room whilst Robin and Claire are talking (previous chapter)  
> Song mentioned at the end is of course Clean Bandit, Rather Be.

Fuck! FUCK....Strike slammed the door behind him and smashed his fist into the textured interior wall sideways.  
How could he have let it happen? He'd created a set of clear cut rules to govern his relationship with Robin; and difficult though it was to maintain them, he'd never let himself fudge the boundaries like he had this evening.  
But surely it wasn't his imagination and wishful thinking that Robin was seeming to return his feelings. He dare not hope that more could happen between them. As he had stated, she was married; and much as he didn't believe that marriage meant that a woman belonged to her husband, he DID believe that she wasn't his to cherish.  
However, there was no law in his mind about desiring her, and that 10 minutes in a poxy smoking area had been like caffeine being injected into him. 

He stopped at the bar for another whisky, which he swallowed without tasting it. He almost asked for another immediately, but thought better of it and instead opted for a double espresso; adding 4 packets of sugar to the treacly liquid. The hot drink acted like a soothing balm to his emotions, and when he turned to see Ilsa walking across to him he had mellowed and his usual restraint and control had returned.  
"Hey you, I'm sorry.......are you cross with me?" she asked sincerely.  
Cormoran wrapped his arm around her and engulfed her into his side, planting a chaste kiss into her hair.  
"It's all good.....I'm glad I came. Honest, I am!" he tried to convince Ilsa; although her pursed lips and eyes suggested that she wasn't convinced. "Seriously.....come on, let's go rescue Nick - he's got some catching up drinks wise - and no letting on about this," he indicated the small coffee cup which he drained and placed back on the bar.

As they re-entered the dining space, Nick was deep in conversation with a couple of the guys off their table. He looked up and caught the subtle smile Ilsa flashed him and briefly a look of relief travelled across his face - he hadn't wanted to seem disloyal to his beloved wife; but he hadn't been as convinced as her that this plan was going to be well received. But his friend was back; smiling and seemingly enthusiastic about joining the debate about whether Man City could be beaten in the League.

At the next table however, Matthew had moved around the table - he was talking to Pixie and Sarah, evidently the discussion was about his toned stomach, as both women were flexing their nails across his shirt and making lascivious faces. Absorbed as he was in being the focus of the two females' attention his new table position meant that for the first time that evening he had noticed the proximity of their table to Strike.  
Matthew's face and demeanour switched from playboy to football hooligan within a split second. He pushed both women roughly out of the way and knocked over 2 of the chairs around his own table in his haste to reach his target.

"Oiy, peg leg," Matthew shouted; his chin was out, his hands flexing at his sides as he bounded across to Strike and physically squared up to him. In his drunken state he didn't even flinch when Cormoran rose to his full height from the position he had been occupying; bent over someone's smartphone trying to work out goal difference and matches yet to be played.  
"Do you mean me Matthew? How are you mate? Enjoying yourself I see." Strike's voice was jovial and non-threatening - he'd drunk far less than Matthew and the recent shot of caffeine had cleared his fuzzy brain somewhat.  
"Don't you fuckin' mate me," spat out Matthew, "I see how it's been, eyeing up my wife...MY wife, behind my back all fucking night have you?"  
"Look Matthew, I've been sat here with my friends, enjoying a Christmas meal; just like you, alright?" - now probably wasn't the right time to admit that he had indeed been staring at Robin past the back of his head all evening, "Maybe you should go and find her, have a glass of water maybe.......spend some time with your wife instead of your friends."  
"Are YOU telling ME what to do....you fucking bastard," Matthew slammed his palms into Strikes chest; there was no actual impact upon Strike, who remained rooted to the spot, but the lack of reaction from him seemed to inflame Matthew further.   
"YOU don't tell me what to do, you fat prick, " as Nick and several of the others at his table attempted to calm the situation; ineffectively. At this point Sarah Shadlock had reached the scene; her glazed, mascara rimmed eyes recognised Strike from the wedding and she slurred out a greeting of "It's Corrrrmor'n, Robin's trusty sidekick! Hellllooooo you gorgeous thing you," as she tugged on his jacket making his body tilt slightly in her direction. Her hiccupping giggle was cut short. This having been the straw that broke the camels' back as far as Matthew was concerned.  
Matthew pushed Strike's shoulder back so that he was once again square on to him and clumsily, but forcibly swung his fist at him, making contact, painfully, with Strikes lower lip and chin.   
Strike's instinct was to grab hold of Matthew by the throat and push him backwards at arms reach; whilst he fought the almost overwhelming desire to mash his knuckles repeatedly into the smug arsehole's face.  
Strike was aware of a familiar voice, Ilsa was speaking calmly and quietly into his ear, something told him that he'd missed part of what she was saying, but the part he caught resonated with him and acted like a pause button.  
"......and right now you are the better man; by a long way......so walk away Corm......put him down and walk away."  
Strike realised that he had actually raised Matthew several inches off the floor by the neck, and he was grimacing and flailing as a result. Cormoran dropped him, turned his lips inwards, tasting his own blood. He used the hand he had just released from Matthew to dab at the corner of his lip.  
"Sober him up for fuck's sake," he shouted, in the general direction of his suited work friends; and it was Dale who stepped forwards and physically man handled Matthew out of the room, glancing backwards apologetically a few times as Matthew continued with random outbursts.

Strike took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and downed what was left of a glass of red wine, followed by a shot of whisky proffered by Nick.  
"All I need is a fucking conga now and my night will be complete!" he smiled, in an attempt to break the tension around him. It worked, and within a few seconds they were discussing the next fixtures and having discovered that one of Ilsa's colleagues was a Southampton fan they had assumed an almost gang like, good natured tirade against him and his team.

When Robin and Claire returned to the room they bypassed the tables and made straight for the dance floor. Robin's eyes made contact with Ilsa and after much shouting and waving the trio joined in with the other gyrating bodies, all screaming in tune to the music that there was 'No place they'd rather be.'

Cormoran caught glimpses of Robin's hair and her languid arms waving above her head, her eyelids gently closed, as she was lost to the music. His lip was swelling, he had blood on his shirt, his leg was throbbing and he hadn't even had so much as a snog off Aspirin Tits, but as her gaze met his he was taken far away, and he heard the words of the song clearly in his ears.

And as Robin found Strike's eyes and she sang in tune with the music she realised that she was singing just to him; "when I am with you, there's no place I'd rather be'eee."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will focus on the aftermath of Matthew punching Strike, and Robin discovering a different side of her husband.


	9. You've ruined it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin finds out what Matthew has done, Sarah Shadlock moves her attentions to Strike and Matthew goes for round 2!

Strike was torn between the need to get away from everyone and the knowledge that Matthew could be anywhere in the foyer; and having calmed his breathing and anger down Cormoran was in no rush to reignite it. He did however need nicotine; badly! As he approached the glass door to the smoking area he could see that Dale and Sarah were on the other side of it with a slumped figure seated in one of the dining room chairs who he assumed was Matthew. dragging his hand across his stubbled chin Strike instead made his way to the main door where his size and general demeanour meant that he was unchallenged by the security staff as he lit up and inhaled smoke deep into his lungs.  
He had meant what he'd said to Ilsa about being glad he'd come; but he was now starting to wonder whether it was time to leave.......slink out without a scene and try to claw some kind of normal relationship back with Robin when they saw each other at work again on Wednesday. After all, what had really happened that couldn't be explained by one too many drinks and a sexy dress?  
Suddenly aware that he was wearing his tie, and it was almost midnight, he loosened the knot and unfastened his top button, flexing his neck to one side as he decided to sod it and remove the tie completely. Another shirt button came open as he enjoyed the more relaxed feel of his clothes and he bundled the tie into his jacket pocket whilst grinding out the stub of his cigarette.  
Turning back into the foyer his nostrils were filled with the pleasing and unmistakable aroma of freshly cooked bacon and he scooped up 2 rolls from a tray being handed around the stranglers hanging around the bar. He devoured the first in a few massive bites; wincing as the hot, salty bacon caught the cut on his lip. Ordering a whisky he leant his elbows onto the bar and savoured the second roll more slowly; this time filled with fried halloumi and some kind of spice; possibly harissa paste he thought.  
So deep was he in consideration and enjoyment that he was startled when Robin appeared at his shoulder.  
"What the hell? Matthew punched you?" she queried. She saw the lips clamped together look and heard the partly concealed snort from Cormoran as he shook his head slightly and dropped his head towards the bar. He pushed back and straightened his arms, stretching his singular calf muscle and relaxed the weight onto his prosthesis.  
"He had no right at all! No right..." her voice drifted away.  
'I think he feels that he had every right," he replied, turning to catch her concerned look which she instantly tried to change to anger - Robin knew that the one thing Strike hated was pity, and she'd definitely seen him with worse injuries than a small cut and a slightly swollen bottom lip; although with his head positioned like this, slightly below her own, she had an almost overwhelming urge to bend down and kiss the wound. What would it feel like to kiss those achingly honest lips of his? If she did it right now would he kiss her back?  
She was startled out of her momentary lapse in concern by Cormoran's sombre eyes which slowly and painfully pulled away from her grey, sparkling ones as he tutted and uttered, "Shit!"

Sarah Shadlock was approaching them at the bar; slightly stumbling and with her evening shoes dangling from her left hand. The hem of her dress was now dragging on the floor and she tripped a few times, walking with her gait exaggerated and wide in order to try and avoid the fabric.  
"Don' worry Robin, Mattie's fine, he's just there," she vaguely indicated the smoking area adding, "he's just been a little bit sickie, but not bad."  
Her attention now focussed (at least as best she could through her drunken state) on Strike. She grinned widely and made a high pitched sound of ecstasy as she trailed her right hand along his forearm and fingers which were now cradling his whisky glass once more.  
"And yoooouuuuu.......you biiig, brave baaaabbyyy. Isn't he just yuuummmy, all dark and dang'rus?" she cooed towards Cormoran and Robin as appropriate.  
Strike felt decidedly uncomfortable, realising that his backside was somewhat dangerously exposed in his current hunched position. As he moved to stand Sarah squeezed herself between him and the bar.  
"Le'me see where Mattie hit you," she slurred, using the same hand to tilt his cheek so that the cut lip was more visible to her, but also giving Cormoran a better view of Robin, who was seething next to him. He tried to flash her his usual self deprecating grin; the one that always made her smile in a way that lit up her eyes; but on this occasion it had no impact.  
"Sarah......bugger off," Robin managed to eloquently spit out, "we were having a conversation, go and find Josh or something," and mumbled "before you make me throw up."  
Without moving her body she turned her head to Robin and said in a resounding voice, "Ok....I get the message........three's a crowd!" and only then did she push roughly past Strike to stumble back into the party, presumably to locate chinless Josh; or some other unsuspecting partygoer with poor taste.

"You were jealous!" Strike grinned widely at Robin. A belly full of carbohydrate and protein and 2 further drinks had brought him back to his comfortably 'happy and a bit drunk' state. The brighter lights in the foyer area combined with the anxious and concerned looks Robin had been giving him had combined to remove some of the sexual tension from earlier in the evening. He had not punched her husband and he'd almost made it to the end of the night. Robin and him were sharing a drink at a bar for Christmas......and she'd looked pissed off that Sarah had been manhandling him.....it made him feel a bit giddy and gleeful; which was now expressed on his face.  
Robin hadn't wanted to smile; but she couldn't help it; the crinkle eyed grin with his tongue darting across his lips as he smacked them together following a particularly long gulp from his pint made her unable to do otherwise. She gritted her teeth in mock anger and growled, "What am I going to do with you!" she twinkled giving him a playful bump with her rear end.  
The action made Strike topple slightly sideways as he was still resting his partial leg, and unbalanced.  
"OOOpps," they both giggled and grabbed at each other to prevent total collapse.

Matthew made his way across the foyer towards the scene - unable to hear what they were saying, his reactions were based purely on their physical interactions. She was laughing, and happy, and not because of him. The anger that had previously been caused mainly due to alcohol was now raging because of another chemical racing through his bloodstream. In an act of pure testosterone fuelled aggression he snatched Robin away from Strike.  
Caught off guard her entire body had been flung around so that she ended up several paces away from where she had been. Stunned, she stood speechless.  
"Don't you fuckin' embarrass me, " he screamed directly into Robin's face. "Carrying on like a pissin' tart and you have the audacity to tell me that there's nothing going on between you!"  
Robin was dumbstruck; she had NEVER seen Matthew so furious. even when in the thick of the action playing rugby she'd never seen the frightening look she saw now behind his eyes.  
"We were just talking," Robin murmured meekly.  
"Don't give me that. Get in there, away from him," he spat out, using both hands to shove her with considerable force away from the bar.  
Robin made an almost pathetic sob which made Cormoran, who had remained rooted to the spot, seething like an injured tiger, lurch towards Matthew. He was unable to stop the second rough, bullying push which resulted in Robin bumping into an empty champagne bucket. She managed to stop herself from falling, but in so doing caught the hem of her dress and as she took a further step heard the sound of tearing fabric.  
Cormoran tried to use his sheer size to get to her, but Matthew's adrenaline had kicked in and he rebuffed him briefly,  
"Now look at you! You clumsy, frigid bitch!" he shouted. Robin's watery eyes glanced from the ripped green satin to her husband's almost unrecognisable outline, albeit briefly. She saw him hauled backwards, as if being sucked into a wind tunnel.  
Strike turned him viciously around and Matthew was not able to draw in breath before he felt the full force of Strike's punched fist knocking his head back, his body around and resulting in him falling on all fours to the floor.  
"YOU can do what you want to me," Strike panted; hauling Matthew up from the floor and delivering a second, bone crunching blow to Matthew's nose, "But don't EVER treat her like that in front of me."  
Matthew had been flung into the bar, his back resting on it, his legs sticking out unflatteringly. Using his elbows to stand up he attempted a step towards Strike, but slumped to the floor, his weight raised up awkwardly onto one straight arm.  
Strike roughly kicked at the elbow, causing it to buckle and he fell into the carpet.  
"And that, was a fucking expensive dress," he snarled.  
Breathing heavily and shallowly; sweat clinging to his brow and top lip; Cormoran moved to Robin. He placed his hand below her forearm, circling the smooth skin with his still twitching thumb, although his grip was tender and delicate - a complete contrast to the eruption of anger he'd just displayed.  
"Are you OK?" he asked, almost in a whisper. For a brief moment Robin was reminded of him asking her that on their first encounter. She nodded mutely and put her hand onto his, her long elegant fingers failing to cover his massive hand but enjoying the sensation of his manly skin.  
Breaking away from each other she looked down and whimpered at her beautiful, green gown. It was now torn beyond repair; and sadly she realised it wasn't the only thing that now couldn't be fixed.  
"Thank you Cormoran," she breathed, and drew her hand to his cheek. It felt cool against his warm skin and thick stubble and the sensation made him soften his gaze as he looked deeply into her eyes. He wanted the moment to last forever; but he wanted so much more.

How could she not realise that he would love and cherish her better than any other being alive? How could she not realise that she deserved so much more than Matthew?  
Staring into the dark abyss of Strike's eyes Robin realised just that.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The really juicy, nice stuff is going to happen soon....I promise. I just don't want their first kiss to be clouded by too much drink.....and I'd kind of like Strike's lip to heel up a bit for a proper snog!


	10. Time to go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin can't leave Matthew stranded, but she's made a realisation.  
> Strike thinks he'd better leave before his feelings take over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know that Robin would never abandon Matthew at the party....much as we might want her to!   
> Everyone is going to go home.....for now!

Satisfied that Robin was OK, Strike knew it was time for him to leave. His anger towards Matthew - actually it probably wouldn't have mattered who it was that had been treating their spouse so badly; like a bully - had made him react badly. He hadn't wanted to get physical with Robin's husband; it was hardly helpful and gave her a reason to hate him. Regardless of how everyone else may feel towards Matthew, he was still the person Robin had chosen; of her own free will.

"If you need anything....anything at all, you'll call me, or text me yeah?" he said in that soft but firm way he had in moments of crisis.  
Robin nodded, her lips pouted in conviction, her eyes twitching as though her thoughts were elsewhere; which they were, and she didn't follow when Strike turned and strode towards the exit, limping slightly as he tackled the small flight of stairs to the pavement.  
The cold air felt exhilarating in his lungs; so much so that he didn't feel the need to light up a cigarette. The ball was in her court, and if he'd blown things; offended her by beating up her husband then he'd have to figure out a way to deal with that and make it right. He knew enough of Robin to guess that she would understand the alcohol had affected both his and Matthew's judgement.  
His leg was aching badly and he wished that he'd had the forethought to think ahead and bring his trusty overcoat. He pulled his suit lapels up as he shuffled along the pavements, making his way back through the dimly lit streets towards Denmark Street. Each painful step was one closer to his haven of solitude. He wanted to look back over the evening like one of his cases; to consider the possible impact of his actions, and to consider what his next move could be.........but first he needed to have a pee, take off his leg and get into bed, all of which required him to keep moving and get home.  
_________  
Back in the party venue Robin had sought out Nick and Ilsa; Claire and Dale had sought out her.  
"Oh my God, I'm so, so sorry," sobbed Ilsa. Robin looked at her with confusion, but was too caught up in trying to tackle the bigger issue of trying to get out of there to query her further.   
Dale and Claire remained with Matthew whilst Robin gathered her bag, almost in a daze.  
Nick gently took Robin's elbow; "Are you going to be OK Robin?" he asked. She swallowed and purposefully didn't make eye contact with him but nodded; her mouth making a strong and determined line - a stark contrast to the feeble and faltering behaviour she'd portrayed during Matthew's meltdown. Nick felt somewhat satisfied.  
Robin promised Ilsa that she'd be in touch as she helped Dale and Claire to get Matthew on his feet. He was sulking but lucid. His nose had stopped pumping out blood, probably not broken as he could breathe, and he could focus properly; factors which Nick had checked as soon as he'd become aware of the incident - he knew the strength and potential impact of Strike's practised, ex-boxer punches!  
They made their way to the line of waiting taxis and Robin gave the address. Robin kept her eye out for Cormoran's easily identifiable shape along the relatively quiet streets of London, but she knew that he'd have found his way through the side streets and short cuts where possible. Her thoughts turned to Matthew. He slumped on the seat; completely defeated.

The black cab pulled up outside their flat - Matthew was able to get out and walk without help. Dale waited for him to reach the door before he turned to Robin.  
"Are you absolutely sure you are going to be OK? He was pretty rough with you Robin......I know it isn't my place to say anything, but I am not happy to go away from here tonight without your assurance that this is not a regular occurrence," he stated calmly and with a neutral expression.  
Robin held his hand in both of hers, "Dale, you are a good man.....and Matthew is too; this has been brewing for a while between him and my boss......and he's NEVER been physically cruel to me before," she answered honestly and carefully. Matthew had hurt her, in her mind he'd been unfaithful to her when she needed his unquestioning love and support the most.  
"He's all wrung out for tonight," she added, glancing over to him, standing at the door waiting for the keys. "Anyway, I think it is very important that we talk, and I think alone would be the best for that.......but Claire gave me her number, and you know where I live now, so if I need you I will call if that's OK?"  
Dale embraced her warmly and Robin hugged him back; waving and blowing a kiss to Claire who was waving her mobile in the cab and mouthing' "Anytime," at her.

Robin walked over to Matthew with the keys in her hand.  
"Come on," she stated, "I think we both know we've got some serious talking to do; but I'm knackered; and it can wait."   
Matthew meekly followed her inside. Without saying a word he went to their bedroom and brought out a pillow, placing it on the sofa.  
Robin gave him an almost imperceptible nod and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

As she removed the beautiful, but now torn green dress she considered it as a metaphor - the memory of it would forever remain precious and beautiful; she even had some amazing images of it from this evening on her phone; but it was now ripped - not completely ruined, but it could never be as it once was, and Robin didn't want her old dress back......she wanted a new one.  
________  
In the next room Matthew removed his suit and shirt and sat on the sofa, his head in his hands. His sobs wracked through his body and he shamelessly let the tears fall freely down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....I have been inspired to try to make Matthew seem at least a little less vile......but Robin has decided!


	11. So this is Christmas....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve, or the morning after the party.  
> Robin and Matthew talk and make some significant realisations and texts make things more complicated for Strike!

Everyone woke up on Christmas Eve. Heads, lips, noses and egos were all bruised and one green dress looked rather sad in a puddle on the floor of Robin and Matthew's bedroom.

Robin waited until she could hear Matthew moving around in the lounge next door before leaving their bedroom. She was dressed and clear headed. They were going to Masham to spend Christmas with their families; and that was still going to happen as far as she was concerned, so they needed to get ready and leave.  
She went through the lounge and into the kitchen area, flicking on the kettle and grabbing her trusty travel beaker.

Matthew had taken the opportunity to go through to their bedroom, wearing his boxers from the previous evening and returned before robin had removed the tea bag from her mug.  
"We need to get off really, so grab your stuff," she said flatly.  
Matthew bit his bottom lip, painfully as he hit part of the bruised skin caused by Cormoran's fierce blow to his face at the party.  
"I'm not going until you listen to me," he said calmly and without making eye contact with her.  
Robin was not really in the mood to talk; but she also realised that it was necessary.  
She moved around the kitchen table and sat on the single armchair across from Matthew on the sofa.  
"Matthew.......I've, er......we, Christ why is this so bloody difficult?!" she almost shouted.  
Finally, Matthew brought his eyes to hers and spoke, "Robin, I think we both know we're over. I'm not what you want anymore, and if I'm completely honest, I don't think you are what I want either.....I was holding on to something that isn't there anymore, and I was holding onto you because I was scared that if I let you go.......well, that someone else would make you happier .....and yes, I know that makes me sound like the world's most selfish git. But I'm not making you happy; I'm not making your eyes smile anymore."  
Robin sat with her mouth slightly open, her breathing deepening with every word Matthew said.  
All of the time she had been worrying and feeling guilty about developing real feelings for someone else she hadn't really stopped to consider that perhaps Matthew was going through similar emotional turmoil. She'd convinced herself that after last night she had no reason to feel guilty; that she could happily say that SHE wasn't the one who had broken them up - his behaviour was the cause, obviously. But now, his carefully phrased speech was causing such a range of emotions inside her.  
Matthew continued, his shoulders slightly more relaxed, but maintaining a serious composure, his elbows resting on his splayed knees, hands clasped together in front of him. "I can never take back the way I was, and you MUST know that I am so sorry for hurting you and embarrassing you in front of everyone; but he made you light up in front of my eyes......I don't think I ever did that! And I wanted to pretend I could stop it, stop him.....and stop you....stop you from stopping loving me. But I can't can I? Because you haven't really been in love with me for a while....and deep down I knew that. I thought us being married would solve it all, but that punch he gave me, it was reality. Robin, I don't love you anymore, and you don't love me. We aren't the teenagers who fell in love, our worlds have changed, we've changed and I'm actually, finally OK with that...if you are?"  
At this point Matthew exhaled deeply, smiling into his wife's eyes with a comfortable calmness.  
"Robin, will you please agree to divorce me?"  
Robin came to him on the sofa and they hugged each other, both shedding a few tears.  
"Only if you agree to divorce me right back!" she smiled into his familiar shoulder.

It would certainly take some getting used to....and even more explaining to their families, but as they bundled things into the land rover it was as if a huge weight had been lifted on their relationship. They spoke with alarming honesty to each other about their feelings, about what they wanted for the future (neither had actually given it much thought, except that they both wanted the other to find happiness).  
Matthew had smirked ruefully before commenting that her search for that might not take too long. His hand grazing the bruises on his face made it clear who he was talking about which caused Robin to blush; a look of guilt flashing across her face, followed by a faraway look of sadness.  
"I know who you are talking about.....but I don't think he thinks of me in that way.....you should see the women he usually dates - you've seen pictures of his ex, Charlotte....I'm so not his type," she blurted out, keeping her eyes on the road.  
Sat beside her,Matthew reached out for her hand, swallowing hard "Robin....trust me, he thinks of you in that way. I'd actually be quite disappointed if you didn't tell him."  
Robin glanced sharply around at him,"Tell him what?"  
"That you're in love with him......Christ, didn't YOU know? Bloody hell love, sorry that slipped out........I hate to say it, but he's made you realise who you want to be, and he's helped you.....but he's never had an image in his mind; not like me - I had this image of what I wanted you to be.....and well, you don't want to be that....and it's OK.......but please don't let him hit me again." He smiled at Robin's face, which was a picture of thoughtful consideration and slight elation.  
"I need to text him," she suddenly blurted out. "can we pull over and swap?" she indicated the steering wheel.

Robin checked her phone for the first time that day - there were several messages, including one from Strike,  
MORNING. YOU OK? C was the extent of it, which made Robin giggle - after everything that had gone on the previous day that was the sum total of his communication.  
She quickly messaged him : ALL FINE. NOTHING LIKE THAT WILL HAPPEN AGAIN! ON OUR WAY TO MASHAM. HAPPY CHRISTMAS CORMORAN. LOVE ROBIN X  
Her heart felt light, she really was fine, Matthew and her were going to part amicably and once everyone in Masham had been told she could get on with moving forwards.  
_________  
Strike had woken late; pent up energy and adrenaline slump had caught up with him, as well as the alcohol he'd consumed and he's managed to drift into a deep sleep. Images of the evening had popped into his brain when he had eventually opened his eyes. Robin in that dress, Robin staring at him as he smoked, Robin dancing, Robin's arse in that dress, dancing; all of which had a natural effect on his body. He considered reaching down beneath the covers and putting his almost perfect recall memory to pleasing effect, but as he smiled he felt the pain in his lip and other images of him and Matthew spoiled his building desire.  
He reached for his phone, quickly noticing no new messages from Robin, but others from both Nick and Ilsa, checking up on him. He fired off a message - it had to be neutral because as far as he knew she could have woken up and realised he'd busted the face of her husband and hate him. He wasn't a religious man, but he cast his eyes heavenwards, "Please don't let her hate me."  
He fired off a message to Ilsa, reassuring her he was fine. His phone buzzed with an incoming message and he swiped it up off his pillow hoping for it to be from Robin. It was from Ilsa, asking his plans for the day.  
He waited before responding, still willing for a message from her to ping into view which could help him decide on his plans.  
When half an hour had passed he decided to occupy his time, so he showered, attached his leg, made, ate and washed up breakfast, (although given that it was approaching 2pm maybe it didn't count....but he would never call it 'brunch'!)  
He noticed Robin's present to him and smiled, safe in the knowledge that if all else failed he could enjoy a few beers to welcome in Christmas Day.  
And then his phone pinged; it was from her and the beaming smile splashed across his face melted away. He felt like a sink of water when the plug has been removed. every emotion was draining away.....well, not quite every emotion because the knot of sadness in his throat was threatening to strangle him.  
"Right......," was all that he could utter. He swallowed the lump that was refusing to budge and sniffed away a fleck of dust from his eyes.....that must be why they were watering.....dust.  
The bottom had fallen out of his hopes; but at least she didn't appear to hate him.  
That was no longer enough for him though.  
He sent a message to Shanker:  
MEET AT MUM'S PLACE ABOUT 3.  
He left his flat and bought a bottle of single malt from the off license and made his way to WhiteChapel Cemetery.  
Shanker met him there, greeting him with a typical, "I hope the other fella looks worse!" comment indicating his bruised lip.  
Strike's response told him everything he needed to know about his mood; so they sat on the nearby gravestone and toasted Leda.  
After quite some time of silent contemplation, which seemed to be comfortable for them both - lost in their own thoughts, regrets and plans - Shanker rose, clapped his friend on the shoulder and said, "It'll all work out Bunsen......bet ya!" and was gone.  
Strike was cold now, they'd been there for well over an hour, and December in London is not the time to be outdoors. He raised the bottle a final time to his mother's grave and drank a warming gulp of the amber liquid.  
His phone buzzed with a message. He didn't rush to view it this time; instead he got up and limped out to the pavement, the coldness didn't help his knee; but given that he had felt like all of his ribs had been kicked in the second he'd read Robin's message he felt comforted by the more familiar ache he now felt.

Later, back in his flat he tossed his phone down and decided to drink away the pain.  
He tore open Robin's gift but was halted in his attempt to withdraw a bottle by a layer of taped down cardboard with the phrase 'Drink them in order!' written across it in large letters which were clearly in Robin's hand.  
Removing the message he regarded the bottles within the crate. there were 12, all Doom Bar, of course, but each one had a luggage tag type label attached, and He could see they were numbered 1 to 12.  
How was she still able to make him smile when earlier in the day just a few words in a text had made his world crumble. And he knew then why she'd gone back to Matthew; she'd forgive him anything; just like he knew he'd forgive her....his mum had told him that one day he'd feel that way about someone, and now he realised what she meant, and who that someone was for him.  
________  
Up in Masham Matthew and Robin had gone to visit their own families in order to break the news.  
They would be filing for divorce as soon as possible. They wanted it all to be as quick and easy as possible and they didn't want to blame each other.  
they had talked about it a lot in the car and they had pretty much decided to keep their speeches similar.  
They were then going to spend the Christmas break there together, but separate and they'd go back to London together.  
Robin was going to move out of the flat, Matthew would take on the lease himself in the short term.  
Reactions were as you would expect......but both Robin and Matthew seemed so......happy! Everyone would just have to accept it.  
_______  
Cormoran plucked out bottle number 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be all about the pressie.


	12. The 12 beers of Christmas!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike opens his gift from Robin, at this point he thinks that she has gone back to Matthew.  
> Robin sends another text, but misses the previous one she sent and still thinsk all hope is lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, Robin has added a personal type touch to Strike's gift - making something ordinary into the extra-ordinary, personal and special in her own unique way.  
> And obviously the style is based on the 'On the first day of Christmas my true love sent to me, a partridge in a pear tree'.....

Strike looked at the luggage label, it was folded around on itself and fastened around the neck of the bottle of Doom Bar with a red and green festive looking ribbon, fastened in a loose bow. On one side of the label was a large number 1, written in a red marker pen. He turned it over in his hands to reveal Robin's distinctive print :  
'On the first beer of Christmas, my partner gave to me.......'  
Strike smiled, he could almost see her face writing the text out......her tongue would have been sticking out of her lips and her face tilted to one side - he'd noticed it always did when she was enjoying what she was doing.  
Eager to get to the beer, and see what she'd planned next he pulled at the ribbon and was able to release the tag and also open it. Inside the folded tag was more writing:  
'...........a picture of me on a po-ny!'  
It was accompanied by a small image of Robin, aged about 7 or 8 he guessed, clad in full riding gear, sat astride a rather large chestnut pony. Her face was all but obliterated by her oversized black velvet riding hat, but he could see her wide, dimpled grin, missing her lower front teeth. She looked fearless even in that one image; fearless and determined.....and gloriously happy.  
Strike opened the beer and drank deeply from the bottle, almost finishing half before picking up the image and bringing it closer to his gaze.  
"You, young lady, grew up to be beautiful......" he hummed, hugging the picture closer to his heart as he drank again from the beer. 

It was clear that he was going to be drinking into the early hours - maybe he could drink and sleep his way through Christmas? So, he searched for the label with number 2 attached.

'On the second beer of Christmas, my partner gave to me......' and pulling the ribbon as he drained the first bottle empty he read the text:  
'...two bars of chocolate (look in my desk drawer), and a picture of me on a po-ny!'  
This time the image was an action shot, Robin looked a few years older, she was jumping over a small red and white striped pole fence, bent forwards over the beast's neck with her lips parted. Again, the overall image was of a determined and confident girl.  
Strike suddenly felt hungry and plodded down to the office. In Robin's desk drawer he saw 2 King Size Twix bars topped with a shiny gift bow.  
"Perfect!" he ripped open one bar and started to devour a finger as he made is way upstairs again, making exaggerated grunts of contentedness as the chocolate and caramel concoction slid down his throat.  
He opened the second bottle and drank it, considering whether he should remove his prosthesis.....he thought better of it. Perhaps robin had more hidden treasures in the office. 

"Number 3, come on down!" Strike shouted in good humour. The third bottle contained the familiar rhyme on the exterior, inside he saw :  
'.....three cases solved...and my arsehole partner went and sacked me!' - together with a recently taken image of Robin pulling her tongue out directly at the camera.  
Strike laughed out loud at her rhyme......sacking her had been a hasty decision, heightened and influenced strongly by his feelings towards her impending marriage and the danger he perceived around her. They had both talked it through and were in a better place professionally, which was reflected in business - hence why they had been able to close up for a few days extra over the Christmas period.  
Strike's head was starting to feel slightly fuzzy having downed 3 bottles of Doom Bar on top of a third of a bottle of single malt, but he had nothing to remain sober for, so he located beer number 4 and opened the tag:  
"....fourth listed track....and some great singing mem-or-ies." no pictures this time, just a QR code image which when Strike scanned it took him to the track listing for a Killers album. He smiled in recollection, the fourth song listed was one which he and Robin had sung along to on their route from Barrow to Corby whilst solving the Laing case. He scrolled through his music folder and pressed play. The familiar notes filled the small flat and he adjusted the volume to create a background ambiance to accompany his drinking.

Number 5, Strike opened the tag to reveal images of himself......all showing him asleep in various states - on the office sofa, lying in his chair with his head back, hunched in the land rover, head lolling forwards on the tube. He recognised each one - Robin had been with him, or working alongside him and had clearly snapped him, cheekily. Most were pretty recent - she'd obviously been planning this present.....but the one in the land rover went way back in time. That was when she had split up with Matthew before the wedding.......why had she taken a picture of him asleep?  
The text written inside was in upper case lettering and he assumed it reflected the rhyme and timbre in the song:  
'FIVE MIN-UTES MORE!!!!!!!'  
The Dooms were slipping down more easily with each one and Strike was well on the way to getting totally pissed. He was looking forward to the sensation, hopefully of passing out, so that he could forget that Robin......his Robin; had chosen Matthew over him for the second time.

"Six bottles of beer!" he belched loudly and puffed out his cheeks as he pulled out another.  
The label opened to reveal:  
'.......six Denmark Street, ......where we both drink a shitload of tea!' There was an image showing the number of mugs that sometimes amassed by the end of a working day. This picture showed 6 piled up in the sink and a further 7 rinsed and draining by the side, together with assorted used tea bags and spoons scattered on the worktop.  
"We DO drink a shitload of tea Robin, we really do!" he said out loud to the image of Robin on her pony, which he had been looking at quite a lot, "Oops, sorry little girl Robin......shouldn't have said shit then in shitloads.....should've said........(he puffed out his cheeks trying to find a non swearing synonym)......just loads.....loads and loads of tea....an' I need a pee!" Strike wobbled to his feet and made his way to his tiny bathroom to relieve the pressure on his bladder.

When he returned he found bottle 7 and lit a cigarette:  
'.....seven on my desk phone (go down, dial 7, the number is stored.....tell them it's you and wait!).....and a pizza will arrive for your tea!'  
"Brilliant!.....Food.....right, seven....." Strike drunkenly stumbled down the stairs to the office, lifted Robin's desk phone and pressed the number 7, the familiar pizza place down the street answered, "It's Cormoran Strike at 6 Denmark Street, the office on the second floor..." he was cut short at this stage by the other end of the phone,  
"Yep, sorted, it'll be with you in about 10 minutes mate."  
Strike couldn't be bothered to go back up to the flat - he'd brought the bottle of Doom with him, so he sat at Robin's desk for a while, then noticed one of her scarves still hung on the coat stand. He went over to it and unhooked it, running the soft, creamy coloured fabric through his fingers and burying his nose into the familiar soft scent of Robin.  
"Why are you so lovely Rob'n?.......I mean, why couldn't you [hic] be a bitch, or a fucking fruit loop like Charlotte?.....why do you have to just be lovely, and smell nice, and ride ponies....." his speech drifted off, and he may have fallen asleep briefly, but the outside door buzzed waking him. He opened the door using the entry phone and heard a quick, light tread up the stairs and a delivery driver handed him a large pizza box and a litre of mineral water.  
"It's paid for mate....but I've got to tell you something," at this point he took a post it note from his pocket and carefully read aloud, "take this to your flat and then you can take it off......the woman said it would make sense to you. Night mate." And he was gone, slamming the external door behind him.

Strike left the empty bottle on the desk and carried his pizza, like a treasure chest up to his flat, closing the door to the office and then the door to his flat behind him.  
As per his instructions he started to remove his leg; paused and went for another pee first; then sighed with pleasure at the feeling of relief only a fellow amputee could understand. He opened the pizza box and devoured 3 slices without drawing breath, feeling it soaking up the alcohol in his system. He ate 2 more pieces more calmly and smoked another cigarette. Then he turned his attention back to the beers and found the eighth.  
'.....eight trips to casualty.........and another picture of my po-ny!' Strike tried to mentally tick off the 8 visits they had shared between them since they had become work colleagues....he's had hundreds more before her of course. The image of her horse this time showed Robin grooming the animal, her hand was mid flank, trailing after the brush in her right hand. Her golden red hair was in a neat plait down her back and her face was turned towards the horse who was turning to nuzzle at her jodhpurs. Strike growled, imagining the fully adult Robin wearing those......he'd nuzzle at 'em too!!!! He slapped himself across the face and barked out loud to snap him out of his ridiculously erotic thoughts.

Beer 9,  
'......... nine every morning,........and you always shout 'good morning' to meeee!' Just a simple picture of their office door, emblazoned with both of their names since their brief hiatus and his stupidity in sacking her. He smiled and for some reason swallowed away the lump which had formed in his throat. Every morning he DID say good morning to Robin; he was lucky......he'd always have that, even if he could have nothing more from her.

Beer number 10,  
'........ten lovely ladies....'cos I think you need a bit of tot-ty!!' Strike's eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw the image, ten scantily clad women, one of whom was Robin. It was evidently taken on some hen party....not hers, as she was not wearing the 'Bride to be' sash. All of the women looked slightly ridiculously excited, and he could almost hear the squeals which would undoubtedly have accompanied the shot being taken. On closer inspection he could make out a T shirt on one of the females emblazoned with the writing 'Magaluf 2013 - Sonia's Sun and Shagging Sizzler', "Classy!" laughed Strike as his close inspection moved onto Robin's figure on display. He'd never seen so much of her body before. her skin looked overly pink, like she'd been in the sun for too long, but she was wearing a one piece costume with a plunging neckline. It was a shimmering bronze colour, cut high to accentuate her shapely legs and with a cinched waist of ruched fabric. His hand flexed as in his imagination he ran his hand across those ripples of lycra. His mouth was now dry as hell, so he downed most of the beer, followed with a large swig of the mineral water. He splashed a little across his face in an attempt to wash away the erotic thoughts which were now dreamily etching their way across his mind. He could see Robin draped across a sun lounger, disappearing into the pool and most unnervingly walking slowly out of the sea with her wet hair scraped back and dripping across her shoulders in the style of Ursula Andress in a Bond film.  
"Shit, I need to be pissed," said Strike to his erection. "I shouldn't be physically able to be this stiff after so much fuckin' booze!" he shouted.  
"Need more beer."

Number 11,  
'.........eleven winning trophies.....from Angus my lovely po-ny!'  
Robin with her rosettes, aged mid teens he would guess. She looked slightly self conscious and moody, and her hair was styled in a home perm, back combed frizz. She was wearing blue eye liner and had in his opinion too much make up on.......it was probably the Robin that Matthew had fallen in love with. Strike shook his head and focused on the girl behind the make up and over styled hair.

His phone buzzed with an incoming message. He noticed the time was after midnight - it was Christmas Day - and he swiped across to his messages.  
From Robin.  
He opened it carelessly - he hadn't noticed the previous one which was the message which came through when he was at the cemetery, and he focussed hard on reading the recent message:  
WE'VE TOLD EVERYONE SO NO GOING BACK NOW. EVERYTHING ABOUT TO CHANGE FOREVER! THINK I'M GOING TO NEED A FEW MORE DAYS IF YOU CAN MANAGE WITHOUT ME.....I'M SO HAPPY CORMORAN Rx  
He re read the message several times trying to make sense of it. Fuck!......was she pregnant? Is that what they had told everyone? Is that why things were about to change? Fucking hell, if that was the case it would all change for him too. Christ how selfish of him, he was thinking of work....if Robin was pregnant she'd need maternity pay and time off and all kinds of stuff that he would rather not deal with. But his eyes fixed on the last phrase.....she was so happy......and that's what he wanted for her.

The last beer of the 12.  
With a heavy heart he opened the label:  
'On the twelfth beer of Christmas my partner gave to me .........another year of working with me!' there was an image of Robin's face, a selfie taken just a couple of days earlier in the office - he recognised her blouse and the post on her desk! She was sitting looking straight into the camera with her chin resting on her free hand. She wasn't grinning, but she was smiling with her eyes and her perfect lips were curled slightly at the corner. He pulled the image to his lips and kissed it.  
"Oh God Robin.......give me another year of you.....a fresh, new year. Matthew can have you if he makes you happy......but please come back to me for another year."  
He sniffed into his final Doom Bar as a group of drunks passed by outside singing 'The Fairytale of New York' at the top of their lungs.  
\---------  
In Masham Robin work up around 1am. She checked her phone but there were no messages. 2 she had sent to Cormoran with no reply......maybe tonight was the night he was out with Shanker? Lying in her childhood bed she thought about him and smiled into her pillow, feeling just as she had done as a teenager when she had a crush on Johnny Depp and then Jude Law. Now she had a crush on a huge, hairy Cornish giant called Cormoran!  



	13. Christmas Day and beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin in Masham has told everyone about her split from Matthew.  
> Back in London Strike is of the view that Robin is BACK with Matthew, and is also concerned that she may be pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am eager to get Robin and Strike back together now! I'm very frustrated that I've planned out how they get together.....and it isn't for a few days!!!!!!

Robin woke up on Christmas Day in her own bed, in her family home just as she had on so many occasions as a girl. This year more than ever she felt like that person again. She had a whole new chapter in her life in front of her, and it felt like the best present she could ever receive.  
Downstairs was a rowdy and relaxed affair with Buck's Fizz and crumpets for breakfast (an Ellacott family tradition) laughter and swapping a mixture of thoughtful and tacky presents - Robin and her Dad had a long standing arrangement whereby they bought each other a completely pointless or tacky gift - this year she'd bought him a small plastic gun which fired foam discs and announced "Get lost!" repeatedly whenever one was fired. He's exhausted the entire 20 'bullet' stash on his son as soon as he had fired it once. And the whole family had taken turns with it - albeit a few of the foam discs had already been lost for the foreseeable future under furniture.  
her gift from him had been a truly hideous snowglobe style ornament, of the type often advertised in Sunday newspapers. It showed a small, blond haired girl (with 'real' hair!) holding a tray of hideously decorated pottery cup cakes out with a truly insipid look on her face. The writing around the base of the globe stated - "I'll always love you daddy!" The item was really awful....and Robin had howled as soon as she saw it, even more so when her father tried to play it straight and imply that he thought it lovely.....but he just couldn't hold it together - especially when her brother brought up the only time Robin had baked cakes - she'd famously used salt instead of sugar....however, later on her dad did remind her that he had eaten one of the hideous salt cakes, just to make her stop crying.  
"I'll always love you Chicken," he had whispered, hugging her close later in the day; once dinner had been eaten, crackers pulled and burping competitions ended (unanimously agreed that Mum won!), "so, this is your real present love, and me and your mum want you to use it to be happy.....pay the deposit on a flat or use it for a holiday.....with Cormoran!"  
Robin snapped around at her father who was smiling knowingly down at her.  
"Daaaadddd! Nothing has happened.......I don't even know if he likes me in that way!" she had blushed, tucking her hair behind her ears and kicking at the floor with her woolly socked feet.   
"Well, it bloody well should happen!" and he'd handed her a cheque for £1000 (so typical of her mum and dad to still own cheque books!) and sauntered back to the kitchen with a hearty, "Who's up for more mince pies?"  
Robin was stunned at their generosity and felt slightly guilty - the wedding had cost a fortune and now she was still a financial drain on them. Her mum walked past with a glass of wine in each hand, passing one to her daughter. Robin's wordless communication said it all,  
"We won't hear a word about it - that wedding was a wonderful day for us all.....and anyway, we had a little bit of luck on a scratchcard......won £5000!" she winked and went into the living room.

Robin got her phone and fired off a couple of quick, but important messages - one to Claire, another to Ilsa.   
And then she remembered Strike's gift.   
She slipped up to her room and removed it from where she had carefully stored it in her overnight case.  
She opened the seal on the bag and removed the small box tied. She imagined Cormoran going into Tiffany and Co to buy it....she grinned at the thought of him huffing and becoming impatient as the assistants would have faffed about adding the white ribbon she was now removing. She opened it to reveal a beautiful rose gold pendant on a slim, elegant matching chain. It was shaped like the infinity sign....and she adored it instantly.  
Tucked inside the box was a small notecard, neatly folded and printed in Strike's messy, but distinctive hand :   
'Robin, you are infinitely good, infinitely clever and I hope our partnership will have no end. C'  
"Oh you wonderful man!" she said to the empty room. Reaching around her neck she fastened it and looked at herself in the mirror. "Perfect!" she smiled, her eyes had become a little dewy.....Cormoran suddenly felt a very long way away.  
Then her phone buzzed and her eyes lit up - Claire had responded to her message from earlier and it was excellent news.

________  
Strike woke up, eventually, and got up out of bed even more eventually!  
His head throbbed, his tongue felt like sandpaper and there were empty bottles and a pizza box as well as Twix wrappers, bits of red and green ribbon and on his pillow, next to his head an image of Robin with her chin in her hand. He'd creased it slightly and cursed as he rubbed it with his fingers to straighten it out.  
His maudlin stupor from the previous evening had resulted in the mother of all hangovers, although perhaps not as bad as it would have been without the pizza delivery and bottle of water!  
It was Christmas Day and unfortunately he was due at his sister Lucy's house at 2pm.  
He hauled himself out of bed and forced himself to take a long shower; finishing with a cold deluge to clear his head.  
He downed 2 cans of 'full fat' Coke and ate the remaining Twix to rid the last vestige of hangover then dressed smartly, but casually; noticing that his leg slipped on quite easily - a day not schlepping around the streets chasing up leads had obviously helped it.

Strike called a cab to Lucy's, and arranged for a pick up at 8pm - he could only take his sister and especially her husband, Greg, in small doses!  
But inspite of everything, he switched off mentally and had a pleasant time. Lucy prepared an amazing lunch - he ate more than his bodyweight in roast potatoes and drank a couple of glasses of good red wine with Greg. Lucy gave him a beautiful scarf; it was a grey-blue (the exact colour of Robin's eyes he thought) and his nephews gave him a pair of Arsenal T Shirt style pyjamas. They were thrilled with his gifts to them - various lego kits linked to the latest superhero film, selection boxes and family tickets to LEGOLAND, Windsor for when the weather picked up.   
He was in a relaxed and reflective mood as he sipped a very nice whisky in front of their log burner fire. Greg was playing a ridiculous guessing game with the boys on his tablet and Lucy was finishing up in the kitchen.  
It all seemed so normal.......normal and nice!

When the taxi arrived he was slightly sorry to cut the evening short, but gathered up his belongings and glanced at his phone. Message from Robin with a picture,  
I LOVE IT....THANK YOU X the picture showed Robin with her new necklace on display. She was in her bedroom at home from what he could see, but he enlarged the screen and focussed on her bed in the background. It was scuffed up with the duvet turned down, but only on one side. The other was pristine and untouched. Weird.

He pondered this on the journey back to Denmark Street....maybe one of them had had a nap! Looking again at the image he could see Robin's small case; the one she'd used in Barrow; but again he could see no sign of Matthew's belongings.  
He had to stop over thinking things, and anyway, the most important thing was that Robin had liked his gift.....and she looked very pretty.  
He was glad to be back in his tiny flat, and get comfortable - he changed into his new pjs and on a whim sent a selfie of himself to Lucy's phone for her to show the boys, UNCLE CORM LIKES HIS COMFY PJS.  
He flicked on the TV and settled back to watch back to back Christmas Day rubbish - Morecambe and Wise specials and a Bond film. He cracked open a massive tub of Quality Street, made himself a mug of tea, clicked off his leg and felt ridiculously un rock and roll.

______-  
As we all know, Boxing Day was the same as Christmas Day.....just with cold turkey and no caramel barrels left!  
Strike actually went down to the office and did a bit of tidying up and checking of emails.

Robin made quite a few calls and texts and became more excited and pleased with each one.  
She was going back to London tomorrow; and thanks to Claire, to a new place to live.


	14. Greek Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin moves into a new place to live.

Robin drove with Matthew back to London, as planned on Tuesday. She told him her recently arranged plans and they started to discuss some of the basic, mundane stuff that accompanied splitting up.  
She knew that Matthew wasn't going to change the locks or anything ridiculous, and he'd said openly that she could come and go as she pleased in order to move stuff - he'd even offered to help her out when they got back so that she could sleep over with the necessities that night.

Several hours later they arrived at Matthew's flat - he would take on the rental and probably look at getting something smaller and cheaper when the agreement was up for renewal. Robin went around collecting some of her things and some of the items they had agreed she should have which were 'jointly owned' but mainly focussed on her clothes, make up and other sundries which she hadn't taken to Masham.

Driving across London was a bit tricky, but she'd done it in the past when collecting Strike for their trip up to investigate Laing. She knew that parking was a nightmare, but also that she could quickly unload. In one of the varied texts she'd been dealing with Nick and Ilsa had agreed that she could park the Land Rover on their small driveway as her new abode had no parking at all.

Claire met them in Greek Street, waving like a loon at Robin, regarding Matthew with distrust. However, when it was clear that what Robin had told her about them breaking up amicably did appear to be true, she softened her tone.  
"Are you absolutely sure about this?" Robin asked as Claire led them to the communal door directly off the pavement. She indicated the entry buzzers and pointed at the one labelled Flat 4, "That's you, and YES....of course I'm sure."  
Inside was a small lobby - not as grubby as Strike's place, but not flashy and pretentious. There was a small lift which they all crammed into and Claire pressed the button for the third floor. Once the door opened they were on a small landing - quite smartly painted - which had 2 doors, Flat 4 was on the left, Flat 3 on the right. Claire unlocked the door to the flat on the left and waved Robin inside. Matthew followed with Claire last - she left the door open behind them and after a quick glance around Matthew announced that he would get back to the land rover to bring up some more of Robin's things. She passed him the keys and grinned at Claire as they were left alone.

The flat wasn't big or fancy, but Claire's incredibly wealthy father had wanted her to have a place in town when she started working there; and she'd chosen it because of the location. She had occasionally rented it out, but mostly had offered it to friends for overnight stays - Dale used it when he stayed in town through the week; but given that he was packing in his job in the New Year she'd offered it to Robin in the taxi on the way home after the party. robin initially said no, but had asked if it was still available once she and Matthew were really over.

"So you have the living room here, it overlooks Greek Street, and the kitchen bit is here - she pulled aside large grey sliding doors to reveal a hob, oven dishwasher, fridge and washing machine. "There is a coffee machine and other stuff too."  
Robin smiled like she would burst and walked around.   
"Back here is the bedroom - fairly basic, but a decent sized bed and the bathroom. There's a shower in there too. This side overlooks the arse end of Foyles!"

Matthew waddled in carrying various boxes and bags and was pleased to see Robin happy. He was also pleased that her new flat seemed secure and wasn't a dump...she'd fallen on her feet really.

"And you are absolutely sure about that rent? It seems really low Claire!" Robin mentioned - she'd thought the deal was too good to be true, and having seen the place she was more convinced than ever. Claire should be charging double what she'd asked Robin for.  
"Look, we don't need it, the mortgage is paid on it; keep it decent, pay the bills - I'd rather have it being lived in, stop it going to waste - and the money you give us will mean we have a decent amount for essentials in Uruguay....we hadn't planned on it, so you are actually being very generous as far as me and Dale are concerned." Claire's comments and look were sincere.

She held out the keys to Robin who clasped them and hugged her.

"Right, you get unpacking and I'll get the rest of the stuff with Matthew....and get the kettle on - there's a box of tea bags and a bottle of milk in the fridge courtesy of moi!"

\--------  
Robin dropped the Land Rover round at Nick and Ilsa's - they were still in Cornwall visiting her family - at around 8.30pm. She made her way back to the familiar tube of Tottenham Court Road and walked the short distance to her flat.......she was so close to Cormoran, just a couple of London streets away.

She was ridiculously excited about her new place - it was sooooo nice! She unpacked and placed some of her things and arranged clothes and toiletries. She then made a list of other items she could collect from the old flat, and also some items she would buy, and first on the list was some lovely new bedding.   
The bed in the flat was a lovely metal framed, wrought iron style and had a deliciously deep and fresh looking mattress together with a downy duvet and several pillows. She used the spare set of covers she'd brought from the old flat, but she fancied splashing out on something new and just hers. 

________  
A couple of streets away Strike was having a sort out - he liked his home to be spick and span; carry over from his army days. He cleared out the rubbish; took the bottles to the recycling bin and gave the kitchen and loo a thorough clean.   
He stopped around lunchtime to flick through his little collection of Robin beer gift tags, and he flicked to the message on his phone and that picture of Robin wearing her infinity necklace.

He popped out at around 9pm to top up his cupboards, but with real food rather than Christmas junk food....although he did throw a large packet of Twixs in with his milk, orange juice, cereal, mushroom stirfry and loaf (he couldn't quite bring himself to go for wholemeal.....nobody likes wholemeal toast!)   
Making his way back to the office and his flat he did a slight double take as a woman bearing a resemblance to Robin was visible up near tube station; but he was too far away to be sure.  
he flipped out his phone and messaged her:  
HEY, WHERE ARE YOU?  
Robin's message pinged back suspiciously quickly :  
I'M AT HOME!  
Satisfied that he had been mistaken, obviously it wasn't her, she was still in Masham, he made his was back to the flat.....via the Tottenham for a swift pint; which turned into 3!


	15. Back to 'normal'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike gets back on with work - although he is missing his partner.  
> Robin gets her new life organised and seeks the confidence of Ilsa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really wanting Robin and Cormoran back together, but it isn't gonna be just yet!

Wednesday.  
Strike woke up and was feeling quite enthusiastic about getting back to normal - work filled his mind and days and without the routine of it he struggled to cope for more than a day or so.   
He felt slightly miserable knowing that he wouldn't see Robin - she'd asked for a few more days; and although they hadn't specified the number he guessed he'd only see her the following week.  
So, he unlocked the office and started up Robin's computer. He sat at her desk while he checked the emails - 146 unread, of which 123 were junk adverts for all kinds of office based crap. He spent several minutes moving these to the junk folder making it easier to focus on the rest.  
There were two new requests from potential clients - or at least from names he didn't recognise so he started with those. Both had supplied the basic information he asked for on the website, so he sent personal responses to each. being an investigator meant that frequently a standard reply was inappropriate - even a fee was negotiable and varied depending upon the task required.

He copied Robin into the replies so that she's get notifications too - he didn't want to have to explain everything again once she returned, and as she was often the first contact on the phone it was important for her to recognise client names. Plus, having worked alone for so long he made a conscious effort to make sure he included his partner in everything he did, he didn't want her to feel like his secretary again, he knew how frustrated she became when people assumed it.

Nothing in the other emails was important so he left them unopened and clicked on the calendar to see what was lined up for the next couple of days. He needed to see what Robin had planned for herself so that he could adapt his schedule and not let something important be missed. As it happened she hadn't pencilled much in - she had some surveillance on Gordan Denis to do, but that could wait, she had an online meeting scheduled with a rep for a website designer (Strike had mentioned something about a week before Christmas about possibly changing their current one to make it more of a joint space, and in typical Robin style she'd jumped straight on it!) He gave the number on the calendar a dial and rearranged the appointment, but also had a good discussion about some of the features he would be interested in adding to his page.

The rest of the morning passed with a couple of planned phone calls, a couple of tea breaks and a couple of fag breaks downstairs.  
For lunch he decided to go for a liquid one....the Tottenham, and he grabbed a sandwich Meal Deal on his way back to the office.  
It felt incredibly empty in the office without Robin around - he hadn't really registered just how much they worked as a team, how they bounced off each other for ideas and insights. He fired off a text to her :  
OFFICE IS WAY TOO QUIET WITHOUT YOU. HOPE IT'S ALL GOING OK FOR YOU. C

The afternoon was much the same as the morning, although he ducked out around 3pm to have a look at a location linked to another case they were working on. Robin had been taking the lead, but she'd left notes that it didn't seem right. He compared the notes she'd made with the actual venue and had to agree - the description given by the client of the events didn't sit right with the location of doorways and street lights. He clicked a few images and added some notes of his own to Robin's.

On his way back to the office he received a buzz on his phone, incoming message from Robin:  
GOING WELL ACTUALLY. STILL LOTS TO SORT OUT THOUGH. HAVE YOU BEEN TO BECKETT PLACE YET? R

Strike smiled and fired back a reply immediately :  
JUST ON MY WAY BACK. AGREE. SEEMS DODGY. DOOR TOO WELL LIT.  
Robin's reply flew back:  
HAVE BEEN THINKING, WHAT IF LIGHT WAS RECENTLY FIXED OR SOMETHING? ANYWAY TO FIND THAT OUT? CONTACT COUNCIL?  
Strike nodded, as if she could see his reaction, and fired back:  
YES.I HAVE A CONTACT THERE. WILL ASK IF ANY WORK BEEN DONE THAT LINKS TO OUR DATES.

He sighed and glanced at the small image of Robin he'd cut from the Christmas gift tags which he had stuck inside the cover of his phone - it was hidden enough not to be noticed, but there when he needed a reminder of her warm smile.   
___________  
Robin woke up in her new bed, in her new flat and squealed like an excited child on Christmas morning. She leapt out of her lovely bed, had a shower in her wonderful bathroom and made herself tea before grabbing her phone, bag and list.  
First stop was a decent shop for bedding, so she headed for Oxford Street and John Lewis.   
Two hours later, laden with bags and having stopped at the Brass Rail in Selfridges for a salt beef sandwich she was back at the flat. She literally dropped her purchases, visited the loo then was straight out again.

This time she did a food shop - having gone through the items in the kitchen cupboards there were quite a few basic things she needed. she knew there was a Tesco a few streets away so returned with 2 large bags full.  
As she was unpacking the items and storing the cold things in the fridge she heard her phone and scooped it up seeming that the message was from Cormoran caused her stomach to twitch a little. She should have been in work today, seeing him in the flesh, but there were other things which required her attention first, and she knew that once she was back at work she'd be side tracked and wouldn't get round to them.  
She sighed and said,"Aaaww!" before replying, adding on a reminder about her case. When his reply came back she giggled and groaned, of course he'd have gone to check out her hunch, and she was glad that she'd picked up correctly on something without his guidance. Her next message shared an idea that had been forming and again she felt thrilled with his reply.....of course he'd have a contact in the council - Strike had contacts everywhere; and in many cases she didn't want to consider HOW he actually knew these people!  
Satisfied about progress she put the phone down and got back to the business of sorting out her kitchen cupboards before unwrapping the beautiful duck egg and pale buff bedding she had invested in. The background was white and she'd bought really nice Egyptian cotton sheets and pillow cases to go with it all. Having made the bed and piled up the pillows she was pleased.  
Next she put her new bathroom towels into the washing machine for a thorough clean before use. These too were in shades of duck egg blue and fawn - she'd bought different sizes and shades as well as some nice fabric table mats for her small dining table and a small, fishbowl type vase which was glass and swirled with her favourite shade of teal blue.  
Having placed most items, moved the furniture a little to suite her taste and given everything a spritz of a clean, cottony smelling room fragrance she felt well and truly moved in.  
It was getting late and she'd planned to go and get more of her stuff, but it would be easier to use the land rover after the rush hour, so she grabbed her phone and sent a message to Ilsa :  
HOPE YOU HAD A NICE CHRISTMAS. I NEED TO DO A BIT OF EXPLAINING. CAN WE MEET, JUST US, NO BOYS. GOT SOME IMPORTANT NEWS.  
A response came back after about 20 minutes.  
NO PROBLEM, TOMORROW OK FOR YOU? I CAN DO LUNCHTIME, NICK WORKING.  
Robin replied and suggested meeting up for some lunch in Covent Garden at 12.30pm.  
\---------  
Strike's phone pinged with a message from Ilsa :  
WHAT IS ROBIN'S NEWS? DO YOU KNOW? MEETING UP WITH HER FOR LUNCH TOMORROW.  
So, she'd come back from Masham. Well, presumably her and Matthew had done all their talking. If she was pregnant then presumably they'd need to think about a new place to live; their flat in Ealing was definitely not suitable for a baby.  
He was honest in his response to his old friend,  
NOT SURE. SHE'S BACK WITH MATTHEW I THINK. SAID SHE NEEDED TO SORT STUFF. SAID IT WAS BIG NEWS. C

Ilsa was thoughtful about the information and sighed a little as she unwittingly jumped to the same conclusion as Cormoran had done. Robin was probably pregnant, which meant another of her friends would be further away from her. This feeling occurred everytime someone told her the news of an impending arrival - she had learned to allow herself an hour maximum of self pity and sadness but no more. News of a baby WAS happy, it WAS lovely news; but for Ilsa it just meant another reminder of her own inability to do what seemed so easy for others; plus it signified another parting of friendship. Initially, when the first of their friends had had children they'd tried to be involved and remain close; but after one particular evening of discussing the best wipes, whether or not to use Dettol spray and interruptions to check on monitors, sitters and express, they'd given up and recognised that it was pointless. Their baby friends had new focuses and had a new realm of child based societies which Nick and Ilsa just couldn't be part of. So, they'd walked away and now everytime a new friendship with a woman was formed Ilsa always wondered how long it could last. She'd hoped that she would have more time with Robin; but as long as she would be happy.  
She paused and thought about Cormoran.  
She and Nick had long since harboured a fantasy of him getting together with Robin - she was just what he needed in both life and love; and recently she had thought that his barriers were starting to come down and he was beginning to consider Robin as more than a friend. this would knacker that idea!  
Anyway, she'd find out over lunch tomorrow.


	16. A plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ilsa meets Robin and discovers that she has left Matthew.  
> She agrees to help her with the whole divorce proceedings and they discuss her feelings for Strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearly there......promise

Robin paid a visit to her old flat in Ealing after waking on Thursday morning. Matthew was back in work and she was able to gather a selection of her own things - the rest of her clothes and other things which she'd just forgotten - her address book that had been in the drawer in the lounge, her school days scrapbook which she'd had for years. Obviously it was quite heavily Matthew based, but it also contained memories that were just good ones; and in years to come she knew she'd value those slightly out of focus images.  
She made it back to Greek Street and unpacked before changing into a nicer pair of trousers and a pale pink blouse. She added a swirly pastel shaded scarf and her beige coat and wore her black kitten heels. She didn't bother with the tube, instead found her way quite easily to Covent Garden. She had initially thought that she would never get used to the London streets; but she felt increasingly at home there.  
On an impulse she popped into one of the lingerie shops en route to Tutton's where she had agreed to meet Ilsa for lunch. Robin fingered the racks of fancy bras and pants and paused at a display of thongs in pale pink with black edging. They were the sort that were cut to cover the top of the arse but also leave the lower part of the bum cheek on display. they were sexy, but not overtly tarty. She picked up her size and a matching bra. She also picked up a set of more practical but equally attractive apricot short style pants with a simple tee shirt style bra. She felt quite extravagant, but her mum would be pleased that she'd spent some of the money off them on something fun and to make her happy.....hopefully to make someone else feel quite happy at some point in the future too! The concept of Strike seeing her dressed in these items at some point made her feel tingly; the cashier was wrapping each item, sliding her fingers under and over them as she folded them in tissue....Robin considered Cormoran's large, hairy mitts doing the same and stifled a mixture of amusement and desire, then pulled herself up and shook her head to clear the mental image from her head........Cormoran was her colleague, albeit one that she basically wanted run her tongue over, but he was so good at compartmentalising his life; surely he wouldn't want to risk damaging their relationship? But still.....maybe one day.  
She bumped into Ilsa and the walked the short distance to the restaurant together. Through the glass doors and into the red leather and dark wood interior they were seated at one of the tables close to the windows. They ordered drinks and didn't make much conversation whilst studying the menus, other than to discuss how hungry they were and which dishes sounded particularly good. They eventually settled on a halloumi pasta dish for Robin and a smoked chicken salad for Ilsa.  
Once the menus had been taken and replaced with a tonic water and a glass of rose for Robin and Ilsa respectively Ilsa took on a more business like manner and simply asked, "So?"  
Robin nodded over her glass and basically told Ilsa what had transpired from when they left each other at the party until now. All the while Ilsa tried to show no emotion, just asked a few carefully worded questions to clarify details - inwardly Ilsa was doing back flips, whooping, swirling her scarf around her head and basically acting like a teenager!  
Their meals arrived during the discussion and they continued to discuss what needed to happen next - obviously Robin wanted Ilsa's advice regarding the divorce proceedings, and Ilsa assured her she knew a great person who would happily represent her, even offering a second name that Robin could pass onto Matthew if it really was going to be as amicable as it sounded. Robin's reassurance that, "yeah, that would probably work well, then we can just get sorted and move on," made her happy that what Robin was describing in terms of her and Matthew's current relationship seemed honest, and it really didn't sound like Matthew was going to turn into a prick about things....although you never knew until everything was signed!  
They discussed Robin's new living arrangements and Robin swiped through some of the images she'd snapped on her phone, Ilsa made the appropriate, but sincere noises of approval and pointed out the proximity of her new address to Cormoran. Robin shrugged non-commitally but Ilsa saw the faintest blush appear in Robin's cheeks.  
"So, can I ask bluntly? Why at this moment in time does Cormoran think that you and Matthew are back together and that you are pregnant?" Ilsa looked directly at Robin who froze with her glass halfway between her mouth and the table,  
"What?" she hissed softly.  
Ilsa nodded whilst the waiter removed their empty plates. They ordered raspberry cheesecake and a coconut panna cotta to share for desserts. The brief interlude allowed Robin time to digest Ilsa's question and try to make sense of it.  
"I haven't said anything of the sort to him, we've sent a few texts and stuff and I've told him exactly what's going on.....at least I think I have," Robin reached for her phone and started to scroll back through messages to Strike, showing the screen to Ilsa with a look of confusion on her face.  
Ilsa studied the various messages and couldn't help but smile at her two friends' - and yes, Robin was definitely a friend - literal and one sided view of them. As an 'outsider' to the events Ilsa could clearly see Robin's view - she had indeed told Strike that she was moving on, not with Matthew, sorting out the break up and that this was big news.....but crucially she hadn't actually SAID any of that - she'd just assumed that Cormoran knew what was going on in her head (which on a professional level he usually did, but this was private, personal stuff; which he was notoriously shit at!) Ilsa basically said as much to Robin and delicately explained how Cormoran had clearly interpreted her information.  
Robin's face throughout was a picture of open mouthed dawning culminating in her traditional response when Ilsa finished talking and scooped some panna cotta into her mouth, her brows raised in a 'how can you be so dense?' manner,  
"Oh bugger!"  
They laughed, reached across the table and held hands, Robin's eyes became watery and the unspoken communication between the two women was clearer than a thousand text messages; Ilsa saw that Robin was in love with Cormoran and was terrified of what might happen if he didn't want her back, or if she messed things up.  
"What if he...." Robin started, but Ilsa silenced her with a shake of the head,  
"He does.......he just won't make the first move.....for the same reasons as you!" she gently explained. "So, Robin Ellacott, we'll have to sort this out....won't we?"  
And they ordered coffees and talked for another hour.

When they left Ilsa pulled out her phone and made 3 calls - to Nick, to John Barroner (a great divorce lawyer she'd recommended for Robin) and to Strike.  
As a result of the calls Nick logged on and started putting together an Ocado order for delivery the next day, John made some notes and sent an email to his PA to expect a call from a Robin Ellacott-Cunliffe, and Strike......well, he screwed up his face, dragged his hand through his hair and used it to smooth out his rough features and had a cigarette.....he then went down to the Tottenham and drank a couple of pints and smoked a couple more.   
Much as he loved his close friends, and he appreciated them asking him round for New Year's Eve, his thoughts were taken back to the last 'party' Ilsa had basically goaded him into attending; Robin in that stunning dress, right there in front of him in that smoking area, her eyes wandering up and down his body, her lips parted as his own eyes had travelled over hers, lingering on the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts and the heaving of them as her breath had deepened. Those thoughts were dangerous then and they still moved him physically now, even though he knew he'd lost that opportunity with her forever. Still, he could spend New Year's Eve with a couple of friends, and they'd said he could stay overnight, so getting pissed alongside Nick and reminiscing about Cornwall and school days could be a pleasant way of bringing in a New Year......he took out his phone and fingered the small image of Robin tucked inside it and tried to inhale her through the piece of paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....so, New Year's Eve party next...I wonder if they will finally snog?


	17. What's going on?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The build up to New Year's Eve.  
> Strike catches a glimpse of Robin and discovers that he's been wrong about everything since the party!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we are nearly at the lovely kissing, this is still build up and frustration though!

Strike was up and in the office early. He popped out to take some pictures and checked to see if he'd had a response from his contact in the council regarding possible street lighting repairs. A new message was waiting once he returned mid morning:  
"Get in!" he thumped the desk and reached for his phone. he fired off a message to Robin to share the news:  
HUNCH RIGHT ABOUT BECKETT PLACE. STREET LIGHT REPAIRED 2 DAYS AFTER MEETING TOOK PLACE. WOULD HAVE BEEN IMPOSS TO SEE WHO WAS THERE UNLESS SIGNIF CLOSER - CLIENT CLEARLY LYING! C

Strike had managed to keep on top of their increased workload without Robin - mainly because she organised things in the office so well that it was simplicity itself to merge their calendars. He'd had to cancel a couple of less important meetings, and he'd not completed some surveillance that he'd planned to work on; but given the festive period it was often more difficult anyway as people seldom kept to their usual routines. He wanted things back to normal though....sure he was coping without her, but things were just better when she was part of his daily life.......certainly never something he'd said about ANY woman in his life before now.  
He considered a cup of tea, but after glancing at his watch gave a 'what the hell' shrug, grabbed his huge coat and decided a pint would help his mood more. He took the newspaper and a pen to continue the crossword he'd started earlier - it helped keep his mind alert!  
\----------  
Robin had a lie in, then a long shower and a lazy breakfast/brunch curled on her sofa. She made a short list of things she needed to pop out for - she couldn't go to Nick and Ilsa's empty handed and had messaged Nick earlier with ideas for anything they needed. She checked his response and added tonic water, Kettle Chips and bags of chocolate stuff to her list, together with red wine and added (Barolo?) after it - she had no idea whether it was within her budget, but Strike had once said he liked it.  
She decided to splash out a bit and go to Fortnum and Mason's to buy some lovely nice things as treats - she knew that Ilsa liked violet cream chocolates and they had a stunning cake selection - so she grabbed a couple of reusable bags and pulled on her boots and coat. She flicked her hair over the collar and let it hang down her back and used the stairs to reach the busy pavement of Greek Street.  
Robin enjoyed the vibe out of the London streets, and there was a pleasing buzz of almost normality after the weirdness of Christmas, Bank Holidays and Boxing Day sales. She hunched up her shoulders and snuck her nose down into the collar of her coat, hands in her pockets as she walked towards Fortnums, avoiding the tube and preferring the crisp, wintery air.  
The buzz of her phone jolted her, she saw it was a message from Strike and read it eagerly, silently congratulating herself that her idea about Beckett Place was correct. She tapped back a reply but resisted sending it immediately, instead she fired a message off to Ilsa to check something first.  
______________  
By 2pm Strike had drunk 2 pints of Doom Bar, smoked half a packet of cigarettes and completed the crossword in The Guardian. He messaged a client with an update based on the images he'd taken in the morning and suggested a meeting later in the week. Midway through his phone pinged with 2 incoming messages - one from Nick, one from Robin.  
Naturally he opened Robin's first :  
WOW! GREAT, THAT MEANS GORDON FOWLER IS FULL OF SHIT! CAN'T WAIT TO CONFRONT HIM NOW.....ARE YOU GONNA BE IN THE OFFICE TOMORROW - I KNOW IT'S A BANK HOLIDAY AND I'M GUESSING YOU ARE PLANNING ON HAVING A FEW DRINKS THIS EVENING.....BUT I THINK I NEED YOUR HELP.......I'M NOT SURE WHAT MOVE TO MAKE NEXT. R X  
She was actually asking for his help and guidance on a case - usually she was Miss Independent, but it was pleasing that she recognised that a case like this, with their client turning out to be the guilty party, was something that he had experience of whereas she'd never dealt with it before. And yeah, he was planning on getting a bit worse for wear with the Herberts, but he'd definitely make it into work if it meant seeing Robin again after what seemed like an eternity. He smiled a little sadly at the thought of seeing that wedding ring still on her finger after Matthew's behaviour at the party, and he'd have to force himself to not stare at her belly or breasts which would be give away signs of her pregnancy.....but it would be great to see her gorgeous face again.  
He gathered his stuff and made his way out of the pub before checking on Nick's message - no doubt details of what time he should arrive at their house later.  
Up at the top of the road he caught a glimpse of golden red hair and a beige coat; he almost looked away, thinking it could be that woman he'd spotted a couple of days earlier when Robin was in Masham; but he could see the woman more clearly and it was definitely Robin. She was heading towards Greek Street carrying several bags. Her left hand was clearly visible and was also clearly free of adornment.  
He followed at a distance as she stopped, found some keys in her pocket and went inside. He wandered past the door, a black reinforced style with a brass handle in the centre. There were various buzzers with names on the panel beside it but none that looked suspicious.  
He considered hanging around outside, he also considered ringing the bells randomly until he got access - but both options felt wrong, almost disloyal to Robin.  
He was about to message her when he saw the message from Nick that he'd ignored earlier:  
OGGY, FOR FUCK'S SAKE DO NOT TELL ILSA I TOLD YOU THIS, BUT ROBIN NOT PREGNANT, NOT WITH MATTHEW EITHER......GET YOUR ARSE TO OUR PLACE TONIGHT AND WEAR DECENT PANTS COS YOU HAVE PULLED MATE!  
Strike re read the message several times. Robin was not with Matthew. She wasn't with him anymore. She wasn't wearing her wedding ring because she wasn't with Matthew. How the fuck did Nick know, and how the fuck did Ilsa know, and how long had they known? And more specifically.....FUCK, FUCK, FUUUUCK!!!!!!!  
__________  
Robin had checked with Ilsa that Cormoran had actually agreed to go to their house for the evening before sending him the message. She'd asked Ilsa to keep it quiet that she would be there too.....he'd probably make some kind of excuse to not turn up if he sensed potential confrontation, or maybe it was because Robin herself wasn't totally convinced about his feelings for her, despite what Ilsa had told her at lunch.  
She was happy with her purchases from Fortnum and Mason's - decent tonic waters, some posh crisps, a bag of fruity marshmallows which she'd sampled in the shop, some coconut flavoured popcorn plus a bottle of Barolo red (it had cost £40, but Nick appreciated his red wine, so it would make a nice offering) and a square box of rose and violet dark chocolates which she'd had gift wrapped as a gift for Ilsa.  
She adjusted the strap of her jute bag as it cut into her shoulder and found her keys in her pocket. She entered her new abode - the novelty still hadn't worn off - and used the lift to reach her floor.  
After unpacking she made a mug of tea and lay across the sofa, wriggling her toes as they were released from her pointed boots.  
She had a few hours before starting to get ready so she rested her eyes a little and was soon breathing deeply and evenly.  
___________  
Strike wanted to ask about 100 questions, he wanted to know what the hell was going on, and he wanted his heart to return from his throat to his chest....and if it could beat normally again that would be a bonus!  
He wanted to ring Ilsa and Nick to find out more details, but Nick's message suggested that there was something secretive going on and he didn't want to cause angst between his friends and their marriage, so he rang Nick.  
"What the fuck is going on?" he said as calmly as he could when he heard Nick's voice.  
Nick's reply was overly jovial and implied that Ilsa was present, meaning that Nick could not speak freely.  
"Ok, I am guessing that Ilsa has spoken to Robin in the last day or so, am I right?" he asked.  
Nick replied with, "Yes mate, just bring yourself, no need to bring anything else."  
"Right, so am I right in thinking that when I come round this evening Ilsa was planning on telling me all of this?" Strike continued.  
"just a few drinks, bit of nosh and a catch up yeah," Nick responded.  
Strike shook his head and pursed his lips into a thin line. He heard the door bell on the end of the phone and Nick's voice urging Ilsa to sort it as it should be the Ocado delivery.  
Nick took the opportunity to whisper hurriedly into the phone, "Listen mate, Ilsa met Robin for lunch and she's helping her sort a divorce, she's left him, proper left him. I know she's got a place in London where she's living; found it through that woman Claire she met at the party, it's your end of town too....and.....she's coming round tonight. Just don't fucking chicken out....be here, alright?!" his voice changed, "so yeah, around 8pm would be great and you can kip on the sofa so we can drink in the new year."  
"I'd like it on record that I hate you both," Strike muttered then ended the call, but he couldn't prevent the smile spreading across his face. Robin wasn't with Matthew......maybe he had a chance after all.  
Ok, this changed things: shit, shower and shave required.........and he needed to collect his dry cleaning, 'cos the deep grey shirt she had said looked good on him was still there..........and he needed something to eat so that he didn't get pissed too early and fuck it all up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be delicious!


	18. Happy New Year!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Strike go to Nick and Ilsa's for New Year.  
> Cards on the table time.....  
> the song Crossfire by Brandon Flowers features....worth becoming familiar with it before/whilst reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, finally, we have some kissing, smooching and loveliness! Enjoy!

Robin woke with a start and realised she had fallen asleep stretched out on her sofa, her mug of tea half drunk on the floor beside her. She checked the time - she'd only been asleep for an hour and a half - and relaxed a little when she saw that she had plenty of time to get ready for the evening.  
She went through to her bedroom and decided on an outfit - she'd toyed with several options but had decided finally on a pair of black skinny jeans, her newer black, suede, heeled boots and a bronze coloured merino jumper which had batwing sleeves and a wide v neck which she could slouch off her shoulder. She sorted out some PJs, pants and socks, plus a jersey tunic to throw into her large,leather handbag which would serve as an overnight bag - Nick and Ilsa had promised her the spare bed for the night to save her trying to find her way back to her flat in the early hours of New Year's morning.  
She showered, using the scented, foaming crème which matched her usual perfume (a gift from her brother for Christmas - probably at her mum's suggestion!) then washed her hair and conditioned it, leaving it sitting in her hair whilst she dealt with her pits and legs until both were silky smooth. After towel drying her hair, she combed it out and slathered body lotion over herself, covering herself with her navy blue robe. Her toe nails were already painted in a deep rose pink colour, so she selected a paler, opaque pink shade for her finger nails. she painted on 2 smooth coats and waited patiently as it dried to avoid catching it.  
She made herself on omelette with some cheese in it and ate it stood at the sink, using just a fork, then cleaned her teeth and applied make up - foundation, powder, a little more eye shadow than in the daytime, but not too extreme, plus a slick of deep burgundy mascara which set off her greyish eyes nicely. She added a coppery -pink lip gloss and nodded at her reflection....she'd do.  
As she put on her bra and pants (matching, but not sexy ones....whatever happened later on she was NOT sleeping with him on the first night!) and added the outfit.   
She placed a few toiletries and some basic make up items into her handbag and smoothed out her hair which she had blow dried carefully; adding a little volume at the roots and a small flick on the ends to add texture and bounce.   
The woman looking back at Robin from her almost full length mirror looked confident, casual but stylish and attractive....yes, that was definitely what she saw. Inside however was a different matter, and she nipped to the loo for about the 6th time before she left the flat; carrying her handbag and one of the posh paper carriers she'd got in Fortnum's for her purchases, which had overflowed her bags for life.  
She was planning to reach Nick and Ilsa's at about quarter to eight.  
______________  
Strike had spent a few hours in mental turmoil - running various scenarios through his mind, re-reading the various messages he'd received from Robin since the party - he could see now, with hindsight, that she hadn't actually said that she was back with Matthew, that the big news was obviously regarding the split not pregnancy and he'd snorted with laughter at his own ludicrous jumping to conclusions - obviously he was a totally shit detective when it came to his own emotions - something he would consider in his future dealings with clients!  
He'd stopped himself from rushing back to his flat - he didn't need a problem with his knee flaring up, or him slipping and falling arse over tit at this point! After collecting his dry cleaning he picked up a few things at Waitrose - but not condoms; mainly because he knew he had some back in his bedside drawer, but also because no matter what happened that evening he didn't want to rush things......if all that happened was that she told him about breaking up with Matthew and he could give her a comforting hug that would be fine.....although he made a mental note that he'd have to turn his torso around if he did or she'd be bound to feel his cock through his trousers, because he was getting stiff just thinking about the prospect!  
Back at Denmark Street he closed up the office and went upstairs to his flat and made himself some pasta - full stomach was essential he felt. He chewed thoughtfully and tried to focus on what the consequences could be of acting upon his desires towards Robin. He'd been falling for her for a while, he knew that. Since before she married Matthew - despite the fact that he'd very much drawn a professional line - her engagement ring had been like a beacon, flashing a warning to him whenever his mind wandered. The occasional glimpse of her cleavage when she leaned over his desk, or the sight of her arse bent over to reach something in the filing cabinet, the time when she'd modelled that green dress in Vashti.....on each occasion that ring had flashed and halted his feelings. But when he'd seen her in person in that dress a week ago it had been much harder to ignore his feelings.......no pun intended!  
If he told her how he felt about her a couple of things could happen; obviously she might tell him she felt the same way, but the alternative would be an awkward rejection followed by daily reminders as they tried to continue working together.......and it might be far too early, too soon after breaking up with Matthew.......but Nick had said he was 'in'....and Ilsa had spoken to Robin.....  
He washed the dishes from his meal and tidied up as a therapy to his thoughts then thought, "Fuck it" and stripped off for a shower.  
________  
It was closer to eight o'clock when Robin arrived at Nick and Ilsa's house, she patted the Land Rover in the driveway and was welcomed inside by Ilsa. She showed Robin the tiny spare room with a folded out futon almost filling the space....they exchanged glances and Ilsa's raised eyebrow made them both snigger like school girls:  
"Stop!" Robin chastised her, "Whatever happens I'm not shagging him for the first time on a bloody futon!"   
"You say that now.....but you're stone cold sober and haven't got his big hands groping yer' bits!" Ilsa replied as she made her way downstairs.  
Robin winced....she was thinking along the same lines herself.....and, she was bloody horny!  
She found Nick in the kitchen and Ilsa appeared from the loo as Robin placed her posh bag of goodies on the island.  
They made appreciative noises as each item was removed; Ilsa opened the marshmallows immediately and popped 2 into her own mouth, and one into Nick's as he wrestled with the bag. He was very touched by the wine, and Ilsa squealed with her box of chocolates - Robin made her promise not to open them tonight, because they were all for her and not for scoffing once the drunken munchies kicked in.   
Nick started to bring out various other delicious looking dishes and popped some other items into the oven for some hot choices. The three of them grazed at the island and Nick opened a bottle of white wine for them to share.  
"Here's to bringing the new year in with friends," said Nick, raising his glass. They clinked and drank; Nick glanced at his watch, Ilsa took a deep breath and Robin puffed out her cheeks.   
___________  
Strike had spent quite a while getting ready - suddenly the fact that his hair would not behave was causing him to almost lose his temper. Eventually he gave up and rumpled it up like always, it curled over the collar of his grey shirt - he'd kept the top 2 buttons unfastened like he usually did and he'd worn a decent pair of charcoal coloured trousers. He added a black belt and his decent brogue style shoes, and taking Nick's advice (despite his personal mantra of 'I will not sleep with her, I will not sleep with her' ringing in his ears) he'd chosen tight, thigh hugging navy boxers that according to Ciara Porter had made his arse look great!  
He looked at his face in the mirror as he shaved his cheeks and tidied his neck; he'd grown a slight beard over Christmas which he liked, and the bruise from Matthew's punch had healed up nicely. He smoothed a little aftershave balm over his skin and cleaned his teeth, swirling around mouth wash too for good measure.  
He ran through what he might say, how he might phrase it whilst sitting on the edge of his bed; starting off in his head, but after a short time he'd started to talk out loud, and nothing he said sounded right :   
"I've heard about you and Matthew" - no, how had he heard? It implied Ilsa and Nick had been talking behind her back.  
"So, what's new with you?" - no, too wanky, and if she wasn't wearing her ring she'd expect him to notice that, and if he didn't...well.......wanky.  
"I've missed you," - no.......pathetic!  
"God Robin, I love you,".......the most honest sounding by far......but probably not the best opening line.  
Jesus he was scared...he'd been in combat, had surgery after surgery, been beaten up more times than he cared to remember.....but this terrified him.   
He'd been so cautious creating a line, a boundary around her that he wouldn't cross; now he was consumed with fear.  
__________-  
Nick glanced back at his watch it was after 9, he'd told Strike to be there at 8, although he'd assumed he'd roll up any time between 8 and 9, but he was starting to worry a little, and from Ilsa's face he could tell that she too was wondering.  
Robin was busying herself creating a playlist, so Ilsa and Nick spoke in hushed tones in the hall, Robin had noticed, but pretended not to.  
"You know something Nick Herbert.....what?" Ilsa interrogated her husband.  
Nick knew better than to avoid the truth, "OK, I know you told me not to, but I told Oggy about Robin splitting up from Matthew......and I mentioned that she was coming here tonight."  
Ilsa's eyes shot open, as did her mouth.  
"Look, there's nothing we can do now, I just thought he should know.....I thought keeping him in the dark was not the best option," Nick hissed.  
Robin had started to dance around the kitchen and sing along to her random music list - eclectic to say the least, starting with Pulp and Disco 2000.  
"I'd like you to know, that later, when she's drunk and we are in bed, I might want to discuss this further!" Ilsa retorted, pointing an accusing finger at Nick, before moving into the kitchen to join Robin. She sang the lyrics loudly and jumped around crazily.  
Nick opened another bottle of wine and poured a round of tequila out....Ilsa was a sucker for shots. Several rounds later and she was clawing her nails through his hair as they danced in their kitchen to Michael Buble whilst Robin had a pee.  
__________  
Strike had made his way to Nick and Ilsa's house, 2 hours late....but he'd then spent a further 40 minutes smoking and pacing up and down in the communal garden outside. He could hear music drifting out of the house - he guessed that their kitchen doors were open at the back. he'd spotted the Land Rover on the drive too. He smiled when he recognised it, he had happy memories of spending time with Robin, just the two of them cocooned in their own word, singing like idiots to The Killers on his phone.  
At which point his phone buzzed with an incoming message: Nick,  
YOUR OTHER LEG HAD BETTER HAVE BEEN BLOWN OFF! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?  
______________  
Robin had not expected Cormoran to turn up on time, in fact she was sceptical about him coming at all, but she thought that he would not want to disappoint Ilsa.  
She'd tried to limit her alcohol consumption but three rounds of tequila had put paid to that idea around 10 o'clock. It was now eleven. the hot nibbles had gone cold now, but she nibbled on a samosa, savouring the flavour and reached for another, dipping it in a minty, creamy dip....a taste sensation as Cormoran often proclaimed when he mixed together 2 or more unusual food stuffs.  
She'd had a few little chats with both Nick and Ilsa throughout the evening - both had reassured her that it would take time; and when Nick had confessed about telling him Robin's news she'd laughed and hugged him:  
"Look.......I get it, you guys have each others' backs......just please promise me you didn't tell him I was planning to jump his bones....'cos I'm NOT!"  
_________  
It was getting cold, and Strike's leg was starting to twinge.....he'd said he would spend New Year's Eve with Ilsa and Nick, and it was almost over plus he'd drunk his way through most of the crew topped bottle of red wine he'd brought with him. A couple walking arm in arm along the pavement caught his eye. They were clearly mid- disagreement, but not in a serious way - every quip was accompanied with a playful swipe, or a mock horror facial expression and their body language was anything but aggressive.   
"How can I make you see?" slurred the male. His female companion shrugged and continued walking, whereas he stopped, pulled her back and turned her physically towards him. Cupping her face in his hands he kissed her. It was the kind of deep, practised kiss that spoke of a long term relationship, one that knew that most things could be solved with an open, honest kiss; a kiss that said, I'll never hurt you, I'll be there for you in the toughest of times.  
When their kiss broke they stood face to face, wordless but more eloquent that anything Strike had rehearsed on his bed that afternoon.  
So he stubbed out his cigarette and walked up to the door.  
_________  
Ilsa heard the bell, Nick and Robin were in the garden with the music turned up; both were singing loudly, Nick holding up his bottle of Peroni:  
'Heartache and pain came a-pouring down, like hail sleet and rain yeah, they're handing it out,  
And we're caught up in the crossfire of heaven and hell,  
And we're searching for shelter......'

"CORM!!! Where've you been lovvie?" Ilsa hugged him, smelling wine on his breath and smoke in his beard, and his hands were freezing even through her top.  
"Look, I'm here.....where is she?" Ilsa was man handling him out of his overcoat and smoothing down his rumpled hair, and silently appraising his choice of clothing as they moved down the hallway.  
'And tell the devil that he can go back from where caaaame' sang out Nick and Robin.  
From the door to the kitchen he could see her; her hair shining like molten gold in the light from the various candles studded throughout the garden. Her arms were raised in the air and she was swaying languidly. Nick spotted Strike and ceased singing, and then Robin spotted him too, and she was mouthing the words soundlessly only to him:  
'And when the hardest part is over we'll be here  
And our dreams will break the boundaries of our fear  
The boundaries of our fear'  
He crossed the space from the kitchen to her in a heartbeat, his heart pounding in his chest, his lips parted and his eyes glued to her.  
God she looked stunning, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight, the colour of her hair and lips perfectly matching the bronze of her sweater.  
"Just.....don't speak," he whispered huskily as his hands captured her face, his thumbs trailing the crease of her lips, his fingers delving into the warmth of her hair.  
Her hands ran along his forearms and found their way to his broad shoulders and she inhaled the familiar and yet suddenly heady scent of him.  
He kept his eyes open, as did she, as he parted his lips further and gently nudged her bottom lip with his, forcing her chin and head to tilt up to his own.  
He could see her mouth form a tiny, Robin like smile and he was falling. He pressed his lips to hers fully, his tongue instantly seeking out entrance between her warm lips and receiving it as her hands crawled up to the back of his neck, marvelling at the texture of his curls against her fingers. She greedily matched the swirls of his tongue with her own, coaxed on by the delicious groans and breathy panting her actions were having.   
His hands slid down and around her waist and back to press her body against his, and the feeling of being engulfed fully by his strong arms and solid masculinity made Robin's knees buckle slightly, and she whimpered her desire into his mouth.   
She could feel his desperation for her, hard as wood as he pressed her body into his, she wanted to melt into him, to wrap herself around him, but mostly she wanted this feeling to never end. She could feel her own arousal and a warmth spread delightfully between her thighs as their kiss deepened further and they shifted the angle of their faces, exploring each other's breath and very soul; lost in each other and unaware of anything except the heat and yearning in each other's lips.  
Strike forced himself to pull away and waited until she opened her eyes to look at him, still only sliver of space between them, their foreheads fused together, both realising that breathing was necessary and that it might be a good idea to try it again as the song filtered out :  
'Lay your body down......next to mine.'  
Nick and Ilsa had tactfully retired to the living room, although both were acting like idiots, leaping up and down, chest bumping each other and trying to match the ferocity of the kiss they had just witnessed.

It was Robin who spoke first, "Finally," she smiled.  
Feeling that no words could effectively respond, Cormoran smiled back and kissed his way along her cheek, jaw and neck, pausing just below her ear to whisper in the softest voice she'd ever heard, "Yeh....finally"  
She dropped her head back and gasped as his lips trailed down to her bare shoulder and back to capture her lips once more in a bruising display of passionate longing and withheld desire. then it was his turn to let out a low, guttural sound as she ran her hands up his chest, grazing his nipples with flexed nails on their way to link behind his neck.  
They both jumped as a loud bang and flash lit up the garden, bringing them momentarily back down from far above the clouds where they had been floating. More crashes and bangs, together with whoops and shouts rang out, fireworks were going off to signify the start of a new year,  
Robin threw her head back and Strike was momentarily speechless by the reflected sparkles in her eyes and the blush to her cheeks as she smiled at the sky.  
She turned her head back to his, her eyes full of untold fantasies, and as her hands tightened around the fabric of his shirt and bicep he swallowed hard to release the tension in his throat......her fantasies involved him......and now they could become real.  
"Happy New Year Robin," he murmured, punctuating the statement with a lingering, soft kiss.  
Robin giggled deliciously in his arms, "And Happy New Year to you, Mr Cormoran Blue."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so, I'm going to continue the story, but it will be an 'E' rated one next because of all the lovely things they are going to do to each other.  
> Look for 'Hungry Hands' if you would like to read the deliciousness that ensues. First chapter will be available early next week.


End file.
